Left Unsaid
by clumsy.carrie
Summary: Molly Gale is invisible. She has a best friend in Rose Weasley but no other friends, and her muggle parents fear her magic more than they love their daughter. But it takes until Molly's little brother is also accepted to Hogwarts for herFULLSUMMARYINSIDE
1. Heart is Hard to Find

FULL SUMMARY: Molly Gale is invisible. She has a best friend in Rose Weasley but no other friends, and her muggle parents fear her magic more than they love their daughter. But it takes until Molly's little brother is also accepted to Hogwarts for her father to lose it, properly. When her Dad kicks her out, Molly takes her little brother and goes to Diagon Alley, hoping to find Rose there school shopping, but instead she runs into Rose's cousins. Molly spills her guts to Albus-almost all of them-and the Potters let her and her brother Cormac stay with them until Hogwarts starts up again. Hogwarts is just what Molly needs after another hard summer at home, but things are no easier there either. Molly's reluctant to share about how much she misses her brothers and sister, and how bad her circumstances are if her parents never let her back home. Will Albus be able to help Molly? Or will too much be left unsaid?

A/N: Hey guys... this is a companion-type piece for No Chance, in that James is still like the James I wrote, and Serafina Finnigan is Seamus's daughter, but it's focused on Albus Potter & his friend Molly Gale. Molly's the main character... la-di-da. you get the gist.

so moving on: this story was made possible by...

Skittles31  
Moliveline  
Leshawnaseville15

... alsoo the lovely people who followed no chance and/or messaged me about starting a new story. thanks y'all... super nice :) anyway, here goes, happy reading!

* * *

Heart is Hard to Find

_I can't compete with the clear eyes of strangers  
I'm more and more replaced by my friends each night  
I can't compete, I just can't recover  
How many years it's been, it's day one in my mind  
That's the first step each time.  
-Jimmy Eat World _

There were several reasons why getting my Hogwarts letter on my eleventh birthday was the most amazing thing that ever happened to me. I was a witch, I could do magic, I got to meet Rose Weasley and be her best friend, and pretend that her family was mine. But the most important reason?

I didn't have to cook.

I couldn't even make pasta. Tea, or anything with boiling water, was out of the question. Even instant pancakes were out of my range. Just add water to the powder, stir, and pour, right? Wrong. It was a disaster everytime. I'd pour it straight onto the fire (instant pancake mix is flammable, for all of those who asked themselves that question) or add the wrong proportion of water to pancake powder or I'd leave them in the pan too long or I'd turn it into scrambled pancakes because I couldn't get the spatula under it. And not having to cook anymore—this was a freaking big deal. I was the oldest of five by four years, and both of my parents worked full time jobs. I got a lot of time at the stove, using my skills to poison my brothers and sister.

But suddenly, I was at Hogwarts nine months of the year. Nine months of the year I got to be all magical and _not cook_.

Unfortunately, that was not the entirety of the year. For those of you who are more talented at math, you can already tell that there are three less lovely months left in the year. Three less lovely months which included my dear little brother's birthday. And while it would have been kinder—to both his health and his general sanity—to have me not cook on his birthday, I had those other little siblings I referred to earlier. So Mum took care of Thing 1 & Thing 2 (legally, their names were Elena and Callum, but I firmly believed Thing 1 & Thing 2 were better suited) so they wouldn't wake up Cormac. And Nathaniel was sleeping, as he did 90% of the time. Fourteen-year-old Nathaniel was perhaps the most boring of my siblings. He got Bs in school, slept 90% of the time, and the remaining 10% were spent eating. Anything and everything. Seriously, the kid was a little scary sometimes.

To recap, it was pretty much just little old me making (possibly lethal) food for my family. Which led to me being a _wee bit stressed_ on August 17, Cormac's birthday. And all of this was left unaided by the fact that I was leaving for Diagon Alley tonight so I could meet up with the Weasleys. So I was packing, expecting my Hogwarts Supplies list, and trying to perfect birthday pancakes.

God help me.

"No, no, no—" I chanted tightly as Callum's seven-year-old form slammed into my side and I grasped the bowl of pancake mix tightly with both hands. "Mum, you're supposed to keep them out of the kitchen—" I called over my shoulder, a strand of hair falling in my eyes as strain bit into my voice.

"Hush," Mum chastised quietly, coming over to run a hand over Cal's light blond hair: he sped away the moment he knew he wasn't in trouble, and I threw a disgruntled glare after him. Kid got away with everything. "You'll wake Cormac if you're not quieter." She told me fondly, putting a hand on my upper arm.

"I'll poison you all unless someone helps me." I muttered as I finished off the pancake and set the bowl down on the counter beside the stove.

"You're not going to poison us, sweetheart—I'm sure your cooking is fine." Mum said kindly, obviously ignoring the fact that I was, in fact, the worst cook on the planet.

"Mm-hmm, sure." I said skeptically under my breath. There were a couple beats of awkward silence as Mum and I stood there, watching the pancakes. I swallowed unsurely: I'd been meaning to bring something up with Mum, and time was ticking. I could bring it up now.

"I'm leaving for Diagon Alley tonight." I pointed out as lightly as I could. "Going to get my letter today, with what I need for school? It's coming today." I smiled shallowly at her, trying to make it look like I wasn't feeling this awkward. "After Cormac's birthday dinner, of course, but—"

"Who will you stay with?" Mum asked quietly, looking at the stove.

"The Weasleys." I said after a moment, surprised. My mother had never yet met the Weasleys, or even talked to me about them. Rose Weasley was my best friend on the planet, but Mum had never met her or her parents. My parents wanted nothing to do with my magical world, even if it was just the people who worked within it.

"Your friend… Daisy?" Mum asked.

"Rose." I said, but I was so pleased by how interested she was that I pushed on past the correction, turning to her and beaming. "They're such a nice family, Mum—" I began, but I stopped as smoke began to rise from the pan. Already panicking—_I hated cooking_—I touched my wand in my pocket, pulling it out before I could think that perhaps that using magic with my mother in the room wasn't a good idea. The smoke disappeared, and a normal-looking pancake sprung up before me. I exhaled heavily, dropping my wand to my side. My mother had frozen in place, her dull gaze on the frying pan before me. I swallowed my discomfort at the look on her face. She was horrified and not hiding it well.

My parents were not a fan of magic, for a few reasons. First off, my mother was a computer programmer and my dad sold insurance. My parents had very down to earth jobs. My parents were very down to earth _people_. And they had four charming (enough, anyway) normal children. And a witch. So I was the odd one out on that count. But it was also the fact that growing up, I'd been brimming with magic. Everywhere I turned, strange things happened: my teachers would hand back spelling tests I'd failed that they'd marked as a 100, confused looks on the faces; I could turn the lights in my room on and off without moving from my bed. I'd made the mural of daisies on my wall come to life and they swung back and forth with the nonexistent breeze in my room. I'd freaked my parents out to no end before Professor Longbottom finally showed up on my front step with my Hogwarts letter on my eleventh birthday.

Not that the explanation had somehow _comforted _my parents. "Hi, your kid may not be normal, but it's cool, she's just a witch." It took Longbottom handing me a wand and telling me to perform a spell and then my mother's repetition of the same thing, to very different ends to even prove to them that Longbottom wasn't just a crack pot. Anyway, my parents hated magic. They did not view my report cards, they didn't discuss my school friends with me, they didn't like to look at my summer work or look at the list of school supplies I needed. First year, I'd gone with Professor Longbottom, and since then I'd gone with the Weasleys. So my performing magic in our kitchen, albeit in prevention of a fire, was unacceptable to the millionth degree.

"I'll tell Ed to come down and help you." Mum murmured, interrupting my string of thought, and I winced as she walked away. Mum was going to go tell Dad that I'd done magic. I'd done magic _on their food_. Dad was going to be pissed.

"Was that magic?" Elena's voice came from behind me. I twisted to look at my little sister; the little girl was sitting at the countertop behind me. Ellie and Cal were seven-years-old, twins, and terrifying when they were in a mood. But separated, they could be tolerated. Cal was speedier, more mischevious, while Ellie was always asking questions, but to the point where you wanted to slam your head against the wall and just hand her an encyclopedia.

"Yes." I said carefully to Elena.

"And your wand did it?" Elena asked, looking down at my hand. Ellie had dark brown hair compared to Cal's wispy blond, but it was curly and my mother took great pride in how _pretty_ Ellie was. She dressed her up in little dresses and tights and maryjanes at every opportunity, despite the fact that Ellie disliked them all intensely. Ellie and I actually looked a bit alike, with the hair and the same shape of eyes, though her eyes were gray while mine were blue. "Doesn't that mean _I'd_ be able to do magic with a wand?" Ellie asked.

"No." I said firmly, shaking my head once and tucking my wand into my pocket. I turned back to the pancake, sliding my spatula under it and lifting it onto a plate. I put it down on the far side of the stove, dropping the spatula on the plate too before I lifted the bowl of pancake mix again. "You don't want to be a witch, Ellie."

"I know _that_." Ellie scoffed, and I swallowed, even as the pancake mix spilled from the bowl and dripped around the frying pan before actually hitting home. My seven-year-old sister already knew that she didn't want to be what I was. "Mummy and Daddy get too mad at you. And you go to school so far away." She added after a moment, her voice thoughtful.

I almost argued that point—Hogwarts was not exceptionally far from our home. But Ellie didn't care about physical distance. She cared about how much I was home—or rather, how little.

"I'm leaving tonight." I said after a second. "After Cormac's dinner, I'm going back to school." I finished pouring the mix, leveling the bowl. I put it back down, eying the pancake mix in the frying pan for a moment before turning back to Ellie. "I'll be back for Christmas though, you know that." Ellie didn't immediately respond, seemingly busy caring for her doll. She combed the doll's hair twice more before looking up at me.

"I liked it better when you weren't magic." Elena said solemnly, her gaze meeting mine for a moment before she looked back down at the doll, as if what she said didn't mean anything. I blinked once, trying to comfort myself for a heart beat: Elena was eight years younger than me. She'd been three when I'd been not-a-witch. She hadn't known my brand of magic, real magic, from the stuff used by the fairy in Peter Pan. She had no idea what she was talking about.

But it still made my throat ache when she said it.

So, the only bad thing about going to Hogwarts? In the entirety of my four-going-on-five years at Hogwarts, I could come up with exactly one bad thing with the entire situation, but, boy, was it a doozy.

I felt like I was choosing my magic over my family every day I spent at that school.

* * *

"Happy Birthday to you!" We finished the birthday song in chorus, Ellie and Cal bouncing up and down in rhythm to the song. Cormac, his smile too big for his face, blew out of his candles as my mom snapped a photo, smiling proudly. Nate ruffled Cormac's hair and I grinned at the kid, smoothing out his hair a little.

"My little brother is _all grown up_," I said mock sentimentally, clapping a hand over my heart, and Cormac scoffed at me, while Nate put a hand on my arm, keeping me upright. I flashed my brother a smile and Nate rolled his eyes, looking back towards Cormac.

"You're not supposed to roll your eyes!" Ellie protested loudly. We all pointedly ignored her—it was the only way to get her to shut up. "I want cake." Ellie muttered after a moment, switching subjects, and my mother laughed for a moment before shushing her goodnaturedly, tugging lightly on her ponytail. Dad chuckled fondly, grabbing Ellie and tossing her into his arms: Ellie squealed, grabbing Dad tightly, and Dad hugged her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before putting her in a chair. Dad grabbed Cal and hoisted him over the top of his chair, kissing his head too.

"You're getting too big for hoisting, kiddo. Got some muscle on you—" Dad said to Cal, and. I heard the joke in his words: Cal was tiny for his age, but Cal still sat up straighter, grinning shyly. Dad looked up at Cormac. "Happy birthday, Cory,"

"Thanks guys," Cormac said shyly as Mum stepped forward with a cake knife, sinking it into the cake. "I love—" There was a muffled crashing sound followed by a squawk as an owl crashed into a window behind me. I twisted to look at the bird standing on my window ledge in the living room: our living room and dining room were connected. I sighed, ignoring the stony expressions on my parents' faces. Crazy daughter had to get messages from _owls_. I'd been waiting on my stupid owl all day—I didn't care what they thought of it.

"Not during dinner, Molly." Mum snapped as I slipped away from the table.

"I'm not leaving him out there." I pointed out, my voice flat as I crossed to the living room window and opened it. I heard my parents muffled voices behind me as they compared their thoughts on this, but I forced myself to ignore them. I hauled open the window, and the owl hopped inside, looking a little worse for wear, but otherwise A-okay. I smiled at the bird, running a finger over his soft head before untying the letters from his leg. Two letters, actually, one more than I'd been expecting. I flipped past the first one, which was expected: Miss Molly Sienna Gale, 45 West Laureate Circle, Nottingham, UK. It was the second address that through me for a loop.

Mr. Cormac Finley Gale, 45 West Laureate Circle, Nottingham, UK.

I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach, turning the letter over in my hands, hoping that, weirdly, one of my friends had just decided to send him a birthday card. I had weird friends, who were thoughtful in slightly off ways like that. But no—it had the Hogwarts Seal on it. This was _the_ letter. My baby brother had gotten the letter.

Cormac Finley Gale was _magical._ Oh, crap. Poor kid. With our parents. He was magical.

"Sit down, Molly." Dad ordered, anger right under his words, even as I stared at the letter in my hands. How could I ruin his birthday like this? My eleventh birthday had been a disaster because of this. I didn't wish this on _any_ of my siblings.

But I had to tell them. Cormac needed to know—and I was going to Diagon Alley to get my things. He'd need his own things. And aside from all that—Cormac's magic would overflow if he didn't get it trained. I'd never seen magic in him, but I knew from back when my parents had asked this for me: what if they simply chose not to cultivate my magic? I'd do more and more dangerous accidental magic. I had to tell Cormac. Dammit.

"Molly!" My mum snapped.

"Mum, there's a letter for—" I began, but my father cut me, off, his face red. I fell silent. My mother was unhappy with my abilities, uncomfortable. My father got genuinely angry when I brought them up. Dad was a smart man. He could understand anything.

Except magic.

"I don't want to read about your farce of a school, Molly—" My father said tightly. I glanced at my mother, whose expression was very carefully constructed into a mask. She was going to be of no help. I glanced at Cormac for a second before I looked back to my parents.

"This is for Cormac." I said quietly.

Absolute _silence. _Dad looked angry in a heartbeat, and Mum's reserved expression flashed to panic and fear for a moment before she managed to reign in her emotions again. But it was Cormac's expression that really gutted me: he looked _completely petrified_. And I suddenly _hated_ my parents for instilling this in Cormac. He was just turning eleven and he never did anything wrong and yet this letter was enough to instill the fear of god in the kid.

"That letter is for… Cormac." My mother finally said quietly. I nodded once, watching her carefully: she stood perfectly still for a moment, before she sank down heavily in her seat, reaching for her water. "For the love of God, I thought we were safe once Nate was normal—" Mum muttered, and I felt a surge of hurt sweep me. Nate was normal—Cory and I, we were _weird_.

"Mum, stop." Nate said quietly, standing up.

"I'm sorry—" Cormac said softly.

"You didn't do anything wrong." Nate murmured, looking at our parents darkly. Nathaniel wasn't magical. And he was older than Cormac and younger than me. He had had a chance at having magic—but he didn't. And here he was defending it. He got points for that.

"Elena, Callum, go upstairs." My father said quietly as he stood up slowly. "Nate, you too."

"Dad—" Nate muttered: he resented being grouped with the little kids, especially when Cory was allowed to stay downstairs, I knew. But I also knew that Nate really shouldn't be down here when Dad began his rant—Nate hadn't done anything wrong, and I'd hate for him to get caught in the crossfire.

"Alright, c'mon you two." Nate murmured to the twins, putting a hand on Ellie's head as he led the little kids out of the room. Cal didn't look particularly happy with this turn of events, but Ellie grabbed his hand, dragging her twin out of the room after her. Nate glanced back at Dad before following them into the hallway.

Dad waited until Nate and the twins were all the way upstairs before he glanced in my general direction, his gaze on the floor. "That letter is inviting Cormac to Hogwarts?" Dad asked in a steely voice. I winced at the tone, taking a minute to answer.

"Yes." I murmured.

"And we can't have him stay, be normal?" Dad demanded, his gaze rising to meet mine, and I saw the sheer anger there. Dad was so far past angry that it scared me. "We have to send him to that school to get that joke of an education, just like we had to send you—"

"It's not a joke, Dad—" I tried to interject, scowling a little

"_MAGIC ISN'T REAL, MOLLY!" _Dad hollered suddenly, successfully making me jump about a foot in the air in surprise. He left the table, stalking through the archway into the living room and to me, grabbing the wrist that held Cormac's letter tightly and pulling it up. Panic coursed through me: this was new Dad behavior. He never did anything that could hurt us—Dad got angry, yes. But he _never _hurt his children. His face was turning rapidly red and his hand was shaking. Dad was more than pissed. He was irate.

He snatched the letter from my hand, releasing my wrist, and it dropped limply to my side: I was too surprised at this behavior to support it. Dad never did anything violent, never hurt us. He got angry and scared by magic, yes. He _never_ hurt me.

Dad ripped the letter in half, then brought the pieces together again to rip them once more. "_You. Signed. Him. Up. For. That. School." _He ground out tightly.

"No." I said clearly, surprised at how clear my voice was. I was shocked at the accusation, though—Dad knew how this worked. He'd had it all explained to him when I'd been accepted to Hogwarts. He was officially losing it. "No I didn't—Dad—Cormac's got magic, some people have it, some people don't, you can't sign people up for it—"

"No, I refuse to—_you had to have signed him up_—" Dad was hissing this at me, spit flying, and I felt panic seize me as my fingers grasped at my wand in my pocket. Dad was flipping out and Mum wasn't interfering. I had to fix this. "_You've already made this family disgraceful, Molly, and you had to drag your brother down with you?" _Dad spat at me, taking a step closer, making me step back into the window sill. I winced as it dug into the back of my legs.

"_I'm not dragging him down—" _I managed to retort, the words leaving my mouth in a stutter, but I still sounded angry _back_, and that was what was important. I didn't understand how this was happening—how Cormac's birthday was happening one second and then the concept of Cormac having magic had turned my father into this frightening of a figure—but now it had spun so far out of control that all I could concentrate on was inflicting as much damage on my father as he was inflicting on me.

"_How could you do this? This magic is starting to eclipse you now—you used magic in front of Elena this morning—what if she becomes a witch? I will _never _forgive you!" _Dad was screaming, and my mother at the table behind him looked up, horrified, while Cormac looked more freaked out than I'd ever seen him. Cory and Mum didn't know much about magic, but they knew that it wasn't my fault, and further, they knew that Dad had officially crossed the final boundary here. "_YOU WILL NOT MAKE THIS FAMILY MORE GODDAMNED SCREWY, MOLLY—IF ELENA OR CAL ARE MAGICAL, YOU WILL REGRET IT—"_

"If she's a witch, then she'll get a letter on her eleventh birthday." I said icily, my eyes narrowing on my father: he was _threatening_ me. I may not have liked arguing with people, but when I felt really and truly threatened, I was a force to be reckoned with. "This isn't a _disease_, it isn't contagious—" I cut myself off. "And I would _never_ endanger Cal, Ellie, Cory or Nate. You _know_ that. If I thought for a second I'd hurt them, you know I'd—"

"I know _no such thing_!" Dad refuted.

"You're acting like a child—"

"_Don't you dare talk down to me," _Dad hissed, shoving me back against the window.

"Don't _touch_ me—" I ordered, shocked that it had even come to that.

"_GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!_" Dad shouted at me, shoving me against the wall again. I blinked at Dad. "_GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT_!" I felt tears begin in my eyes. "_YOU WILL NOT ENDANGER MY CHILDREN AGAIN_!" My tears were beginning to make my eyes burn but I just glared at him.

"You're actually kicking me out?" I asked after a second, my voice surprisingly flat. I didn't care anymore about staying close to him, to my mother. Dad may have been the one reaming me out but it wasn't like my mother was saying anything. What kind of parenting was this? "You're actually kicking out your fifteen-year-old—"

"She can come back for Christmas, can't she—" Mum tried softly.

"Absolutely not." Dad said, throwing Mum a withering look, and she seemed to shrink. "Cormac may return provided that he under _no circumstances_ talks about magic or performs it around Cal or Ellie." He looked back at me. _"She_ already broke that trust." He glared. "Now go, get out of my house—"

"I can't believe this is happening." I said quietly, too stunned to do anything else. I blinked up at my father, my _Daddy_ who had stopped paying attention to reality, here, and was kicking me out of the house. And my little brother was as magical as I was.

I straightened up dully, moving in a kind of stunned silence towards the hallway of the dining room. My mum's eyes were filled with tears but she wasn't doing anything. Cormac was looking kind of panicky, his glance rocketing between my father and me. I just passed them, leaving the dining room for the hallway, then the foyer, and I walked upstairs. I started into my room, and the door to Nate and Cormac's room opened, and Nate followed me into my bedroom. I threw open my trunk and began to put my things in it kind of mechanically, Nate's gaze following me, his face filled with confusion.

"You're leaving?" He asked quietly.

"I'm getting kicked out." I corrected in a deadened voice, glancing up at him with red-rimmed eyes. Nate blinked at me. "Dad just kicked me out. I am no longer welcome here." I opened one of my drawers, lifting my neatly folded clothes and putting them in my trunk. I was the only one in the house who had their own room—a consequence of becoming magical. My dad didn't want me passing on my magic to Nate, who I'd shared a room with till I was eleven. So he isolated me. And when Nate's eleventh birthday came and went without incident, Dad thought the Gale family was safe from more _freaks_ like me.

"Dad kicked you _out_?" Nate demanded, his voice rising.

"I know, okay?" I said, glancing tearfully up at Nate, dumping the last of my shirts into the trunk. I tore open my pants drawer, dumping things more messily, now, into the trunk, and I finished that faster. I dumped my other drawers into the trunk, before moving to my closet.

"Dad kicked you out." Nate echoed. He paused. "Where are you going to go?"

"I'm going to go to Diagon Alley to buy my school supplies and I don't have to worry about my housing situation until next June." I said quietly.

"Christmas break?" Nate demanded skeptically, and I glanced at him briefly, trying to tell what he was thinking, before I resumed taking my school robes down from my closet and throwing them into the rapidly-filling trunk. "Spring break? You'll spend them at school?"

"I'm allowed to at the very least." I said quietly. There was a beat.

"Cormac?" Nate asked after a beat.

"Is allowed back." I said softly, trying to make the lump in my throat that was making it hard to talk less obvious. Nate fell silent, seemingly as confused and horrified as I was by this turn of events, but there was nothing he could do either. "You'll look out for Cory around Mum and Dad, right? I know he's magical but if I'm not here to run interference during the holidays…" I began, turning back to Nate.

"Fuck." Nate murmured. "Fuck, shit—_shit_, Dad can't kick his kid out." Nate was pissed off. I was pissed off, Dad was having some kind of break from reality—I was too tired to handle this.

"He did." I said firmly. "But you're going to—"

"I'll talk him into letting you back for holidays." Nate said firmly. "You only make him be your parent like three months of the year—I think he can suck it up to deal with whatever the hell your magic is—"

"He obviously can't." I said as I threw the last of my robes into the trunk, tears burning in my eyes as I turned to face my little brother. "He can't suck it up and I can't let him _not_ suck it up, Nate—so I'm going to go to—" My voice broke. "I'm going back to school and Cory's coming with me and he'll be back and I won't."

I turned my back on Nate and shut my trunk firmly, locking it tightly. I pulled my wand from my pocket and tapped the top of trunk, making sure it was locked tight. I didn't care, at this point, about the Underage Wizardry Laws: I'd been trying to avoid breaking them by packing my own trunk, but I had to get out of here.

I pushed past Nate to leave my room, running across the hall to where Nate and Cory slept, and I pulled a trunk they used for trips from their closet, flipping it open. Cory ran upstairs, slipping into the room, as Nate managed to follow me across the hall. I pointed my wand at the empty trunk. "_Pack_."

Cormac's things flew in the air, whirling into a tornado that funneled into the trunk, filling it neatly. His drawers snapped open and his clothes leapt from their spots to the trunk, while other things he'd wand—even the posters on the wall, swirled into the trunk. In seconds, Cory's things were gone, leaving only his bedding and the things my spell had deemed unnecessary around the room. Nate's side was spotless. The trunk snapped shut and clicked. Done.

"If I get Dad to agree to have you back for Christmas, will you come?" Nate asked after the lock had clicked, and I glanced back at him, shocked by the question.

"Dad won't let me ever—"

"But if I convince him—" Nate said haltingly, looking horrified. It occurred to me what was really happening here: Nate was terrified that this was the end. That I'd never see him again. I was written all over his face and the uncomfortable way he'd crossed his arms and hunched his shoulders, as if trying to stay under my radar. I was terrified of that too, to be frank.

But I was the big sister & he was the little brother and big sisters had to take care of their little brothers. Especially when their parents had evidently forgotten how to take care of their children.

"Natey, I'll be back eventually." I said after a second, lying through my teeth. Dad was never letting me back into this house; my father wasn't the kind to ever go back on a decision, for fear of looking weak. But I had nothing else to offer Nate but a lie, and I had to give him something. Giving him nothing was worse than giving him lies to hold out hope, right?

Right?

"I just need Dad to cool down first, maybe get more used to Cory being a wizard. Once he gets a few letters from Cory, and Mum gets antsy at having Cory & me at a school full of people she's never met and taught by people she's never met, they'll calm down." Lies, lies, lies. But they were comforting Nate and that was most important.

Nate nodded after a second, and I sighed, grabbing one end of Cory's trunk and beginning to drag it into the hall. Nathaniel grabbed the other end, carrying it more easily as he was already an inch taller than me—the jerk was taller than me already, and his growth spurt hadn't even properly started up yet. He helped me get it into the hallway, and into my bedroom and we put it down heavily; Nate looked up at me miserably. I swallowed, before I climped up on top of the trunk and jumped off the other side, before I hugged Nate tightly, tears jumping to my eyes again. My brother hugged me back, seemingly dropping his façade for a brief moment, before Cormac stepped into the doorway, looking kind of shell-shocked. I sighed, releasing Nate. "Take care of yourself, alright? And Cal and Ellie—tell them I'm sorry I couldn't say goodbye but I don't want to stay too much longer." I told him a little tearfully, and Nate just looked away: I saw the resentment on his face. He was mad. "I love you, Natey, okay? I'll send Christmas presents if I don't get to come home." Nathaniel just stepped back, and I felt a pain in the pit of my stomach.

"You're really leaving…?" Cory asked softly, coming forward. I nodded, swiping at my now-streaming eyes. "Am I going with you?" He asked me. I stopped. I hadn't asked Cory if he wanted to come to Hogwarts. I'd assumed he wanted out of this house where our father hated our magic.

But Cory had to come.

"People with magic need training, Cory." I murmured. "Or else your magic will just grow without constraints, you'll never learn to use it. And it'll hurt you and the people around you." I swallowed. I was telling the truth—it would hurt Cory, in the end, if no one trained his magic. But if he was about to stand here and tell me he didn't want to go, I _couldn't_ make him go. I wasn't that strong anymore.

"If he doesn't want to go, he doesn't have to." Nate said angrily. Cory's frightened gaze flicked to Nate.

"Accidental magic happens, Nate, and it hurts people." I said quietly. "My friend's dad blew up his aunt when he was thirteen. Accidentally." I hesitated, before continuing. "And I'm not comfortable leaving him here with Mum & Dad." I saw Nate's expression flick from confused to concern to anger in a heartbeat.

"You think I couldn't protect him?" Nate demanded, his voice getting louder as he scowled at me.

"You shouldn't have to." I murmured. Nate sagged at these words, and I beckoned Cory forward. I swiped at my eyes as Cory stepped up beside me, looking at Nate with big, sad eyes. "Love you, Nate." I said softly. Nate just nodded to Cory and me, and I tapped my trunk and then Cory's with my wand. I was going to be in so much trouble when the Ministry finally caught up with me, but I didn't care.

I heard footsteps coming up the stairs, heavier ones. Dad. "_Better not still be here_," I heard half a sentence in the hallway, and I felt panic surge in me. I had to get Cory out. I motioned to Nate to hide in the closet—it'd look weird if he were in my room—and since I was in trouble anyway, I decided to push it to the last extent of the law: I grabbed Cory and hugged him to me, muttered a spell to banish the trunks to the Leakey Cauldron, and then I closed my eyes and disapparated.

We spun in circles for a moment, a dizzying mess of colors around us making Cory gasp and turn his face into my arm: I clung to him tightly. And then we landed with a jolt, across the street from the Leakey Cauldron's entrance in muggle London. Cory stumbled away from me as I tried to keep my footing. But relief still filled me. We were out of the house, we were safe, and Dad had no problems with his "normal" kids. Everyone was okay. I felt tears start in my eyes anyway, though, even as I thought of Dad and Mum and Nate and Cal and Ellie. I hadn't gotten to say goodbye to Cal or Ellie. They were going to hate me.

Cory seemed to have caught his breath, so I put a hand on his shoulder and steered him across the empty street, into the Leakey Cauldron. We stumbled inside and looked around: the place wasn't exactly busy but there were a handful of witches and wizards around. The fact that I was here, though, comforted me: back in magicland. I trusted this world, more than I trusted the muggle one, because I had friends here, and most importantly, no one here thought Cory and I were freaks.

After a second, I saw Albus Potter, his brother, and his brother's girlfriend sitting at a back table. Al was my best friend's cousin—and we were friendly enough, I supposed. He was on the Quidditch team, and every girl in our school had a crush on him—he was the sweetest boy in the entire school. It would have been his older brother James who was the big deal, but James was kind of withdrawn. Reserved. In fact, his only discernable friends were his roommates and Serafina Finnigan, who was almost as big a deal as the Potter kids themselves.

"Molly?" Albus asked, frowning at me across the room. I looked at him tiredly, before my eyes burned with renewed tears. I pressed two galleons and two sickles into his hand, directing him to Tom, the bartender.

"Get a room and get me a butterbeer, okay? Get a hot chocolate for yourself if you want, too…I have to go talk to my friends for a second," I game Cory a light shove in the direction of the bar, before I walked over to Albus, pushing some of my hair out of my face as a few tears escaped down my cheeks.

"What's wrong?" Albus asked softly, standing up as I approached. I swallowed, swiping at my face for a second before I stopped in front of the table James, Serafina, and Al were sitting at. "Molly—c'mon, you're scaring me." Albus said worriedly, and I looked back at Cormac for a second before I looked at Albus again, my tears thickening. "Tell me what's going on." James and Sera were watching me worriedly as well, James's gaze flicking from me to his brother and back to me.

"Um, my little brother—he got his Hogwarts letter today." I stopped, tears making my voice thick. "It's his birthday. And my dad flipped out—I'm muggleborn, y'know—and he hates magic…" I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath and I reached up to wipe at my face; Al's hand shot out, grabbing my hand extending my arm gently. My wrist had finger marks around it.

"What the fuck is this?" Albus asked, sounding uncharacteristically angry. I turned my face away from Albus, and his voice got softer as he continued. "Molly…"

"My dad kicked me out."


	2. When Did Your Heart Go Missing?

**A/N:**_ Hey guys!_

_This chapter was IMPOSSIBLE to write but I got some lovely reviews from you all which made me go back to the drawing board over and over again, which made this chapter as good as it is (my humble opinion :])... incredibly sweet, thank you so much. Special props to Bella-Faye and Moonlit Daybreak who have recently said they loved both my story No Chance and this one... you guys are the best :D Also, KaitlynEmmaRose continues to be perhaps the most loyal reviewer **ever** in the history of fanfiction, so she gets points too. If anyone were to actually keep track of these points I arbitrarily give out, she would most definitely be the high scorer._

_Happy reading!_

* * *

When Did Your Heart Go Missing?

_I'm waitin, waiting for nothin',  
You're leavin', leavin' me hangin'…  
I treat you like a princess  
But your life is just one big mess  
When did your heart go missing?  
-Rooney_

Ten minutes later I was sitting beside Albus on the couch while Cory leaned over my copy of the Standard Book of Spells, Book 1 at a table across the room. Cory always read when he was freaked out. I'd asked him why once, and he'd said it was because he could only fix what he knew and everything he knew came from books.

The kid was walking Ravenclaw material.

I actually sort of hoped, in my heart of hearts, that Cormac would be in Gryffindor like Rose and Albus and me. But the fact of it was, I felt bad enough for the kid that even if he was in Slytherin I'd forgive him. Today was still his eleventh birthday and I'd essentially forced him to leave home with me. He could be Slytherin and a truant and get into so much trouble that I had to bail him out all the time and I'd probably forgive him. I felt _that_ guilty about his being a wizard.

And I would have sat him down for a I-never-wanted-this-for-you talk right then and there, had we not been waiting on Mr. Potter and Mrs. Weasley. James, Albus and Serafina had jumped into action the second that it'd become clear that my dad was the cause of the finger marks on my wrists. James had flooed back to the Potter estate and Sera was at the Ministry, getting Albus's aunt Hermione Weasley. Mrs. Weasley was also Rose's mother, and knew me best—she'd been great, my first year at Hogwarts, helping me to buy all of my things before school. She would also be good in this particular issue: she worked for the Magical Law Enforcement Department or some such place.

James Potter was retrieving Mr. Potter for slightly sketchier reasons: they wanted a member of law enforcement to hear me out. I'd tried to argue against it, but James hadn't spared me a moment of his time and Albus had pointedly told me that his dad wouldn't do anything about it if I didn't want him too. James had suggested that Al come with him—Al knew me better, according to James, and might be better able to describe the situation. But Al had declined the offer before I'd even had the chance to dispute the fact that Albus and I _weren't friends_.

Albus and I had a very weird relationship. I was invisible at school. Not in a bad way—no one picked on me or anything. I wasn't even important enough for that. Just… no one knew me. And Albus was arguably the most well-liked kid in the school. I mean, even some Slytherin girls liked him. And he was Harry Potter's clone. I was fairly sure that he only knew my name because there were only two girls in the Gryffindor dorm—Rose and me. Since there were five Gryffindor boys, the Gryffindor girls didn't go completely unnoticed. But still. I was all but completely under the radar. And Albus was, in short, king.

He didn't abuse his power, or not so much that I saw. But he wasn't perfect. He was a strictly hook-up kind of guy, or in so far as I could see. He had never had a girlfriend, and he didn't spend a lot of time acknowledging the existence of people who weren't either his roommates, his cousins, or the best-looking girls our year. I mean, it wasn't exactly moral. But he also wasn't hurting anyone, so, as a rule, I kind of didn't care so much about him.

But I was still invisible.

Which bothered me a little. A big part of that problem was the fact that my best friend, Rose Weasley, was one of those people who was practically sparkling. She was gorgeous and smart and she spent a huge part of her time teasing the boys of Gryffindor tower into wishing she was their girlfriend/friend-with-benefits. So I got a little lost in the mix. But I didn't need the attention the same way that Rose did—Rose was an attention monster. She needed attention or else it was hard for her to function. So I let her have the spotlight and I went along in relative obscurity.

Unfortunately, all of the above insights didn't help me when I was alone with Albus Severus Potter. Albus shifted, startling me out of my reverie, turning on the couch to face me, his expression tortured. "Molly, why the bloody hell didn't you tell me?" Albus demanded quietly in a fast voice, shaking his head a little. If I hadn't known better, I would have said he seemed anguished.

But he we weren't friends. He was _him _and I was invisible. So anguish wasn't possible. "Why the _fuck _didn't you tell me that your dad _hurt _you?"

I met his gaze evenly, raising an eyebrow. "First off, keep your bloody voice down. If you think I want my personal business all over the bar, you're sorely mistaken. Second off, he doesn't hurt me. And third off, why would I tell _you_ of all people?" I demanded quietly.

"Why would you tell _me _of all people?" Albus echoed, evidently too shocked by my response to offer one of his own. "Because I would have—helped." Albus was definitely seeming pretty anguished here. I'd never seen Al without his easy-going smile, without his being happy or frustrated about a lost Quidditch game or something equally _him_. This panicking thing was not only extremely out of character but really confusing. Of all people for him to worry about, why me? "I would have helped you, Molly. You could have stayed with us. You could have stayed with anyone—" Albus cut himself off.

"You're acting like a nutter." I muttered after a second, uncomfortable with what he was offering.

Albus glared at me witheringly, but I just scowled back. "I'm acting like a nutter?" He demanded. "You're the one who was just having a bloody mental breakdown because your dad apparently _hurt_ you and kicked you out of your house and now you're telling me you're fine." Albus demanded scathingly. I glared at him icily. "You think _I'm_ the one acting like a nutter? _Really_?"

"You are overreacting." I muttered.

"I'm _overreacting_?" Albus demanded loudly, and I exhaled heavily. "I'm just—God, what is wrong with you?" Albus demanded. "You're such a bloody _mental _case!"

"So charming…" I murmured.

"Your dad _hurt_ you and you're sitting here acting like it's no big deal!" Albus said after a second, his voice flat. He was obviously at a loss for why I was acting the way I was, but I didn't care. I acted the way I _felt _like acting. It had nothing to do with what Albus was expecting. "Are you kidding me, Molly? He _hurt_ you—he doesn't deserve whatever's driving _this_," he made a grand gesture with his hands that seemed to indicate that the entire room was _this_, "_sympathy_ for him! He lost his right to that the second he hurt you—"

"Keep your voice down or I _will _smack you." I told him seriously.

"He _hurt_ you—" Albus had made this point several times but apparently didn't believe I was getting the memo. I frowned at him defensively, leaning back an inch on the couch.

"What the fuck are you doing, Albus?" I demanded.

"Making treacle tart, thought it would be a nice dessert—what do you _think _I'm doing? I'm trying to get through your immensely thick skull to see whether you even care that your dad _hurt you_—" Al was yelling, and my hand shot out to smack his arm.

"My little brother is sitting maybe eight feet from us and I swear to God, if you scare him with all this talk you will pay dearly." I murmured.

"You're more protective of your brother from me then you are of yourself from your father. Does that sound _normal _to you?" Albus demanded scathingly. "You—need—the desire to protect yourself, or something—I don't know how you got this far, in life—" I glared at him pointedly, "without wanting to, oh, I don't know, protect yourself from your dad, but this," He waved a hand in the air, indicating me, "is unhealthy." Albus fell silent, evidently done with his rant, and I was about to jump in with some sort of response when there was a cracking sound like a gunshot. Albus and I both glanced towards where the sound had come from: his dad had just apparated into the bar. Cormac, however, jumped about a foot in the air, his eyes wide as he scrambled to his feet and spun around to stare at Mr. Potter, before he fell back a couple of steps and stepped around the table, sinking down at the armchair beside me shakily. Mr. Potter, however, just looked around, laid eyes on his son, and came forward with a concerned frown.

"Al, hey." Mr. Potter said, glancing at me. "James came and got me, I assume you know," Mr. Potter said after a second, and I had to give him credit for his tact. James had come and got him and said something along the lines of _Albus's friend is being abused_, I would bet. To approach this as sanely as he had, he had to have a healthy dose of tact.

"Yeah, he did—one second, Aunt Hermione's coming too…" Al said to his dad awkwardly. There was a second cracking sound, and Mrs. Weasley appeared beside the fireplace, pushing some of her wild hair out of her face. Cormac made a sound like a dying animal, wincing and throwing me a bewildered look.

"Kid, calm down." I murmured to him, rising to my feet and crossing the few steps between us. I crouched beside him, rubbing his back for a moment like I'd used to do when we were little and he'd had nightmares. "It's called apparation—it's how we got here? Remember that?" Cormac nodded a little, and after a second, shifted his shoulder uncomfortably, and I removed my hand from his back, studying him wordlessly. I was worried about the kid.

"Hello, Harry, Al," Mrs. Weasley said with a brief smile to her brother-in-law and nephew, but her gaze quickly switched to me. "Molly, sweetheart, it's so nice to see you." She said quietly.

"Hi Mrs. Weasley." I murmured, pushing myself back up to standing.

"Molly, this is my brother-in-law Harry Potter—Harry, this is Molly Gale, Rose's best friend."

"Nice to meet you, Molly." Mr. Potter murmured with a small, forced smile.

"Nice to meet you too," I murmured. I put a hand on Cory's shoulder. "This is my brother Cormac—he's starting Hogwarts this year."

"Ah." Mrs. Weasley said quietly. For a moment, we all just stood there—Mr. Potter, Mrs. Weasley and I standing, and Albus and Cory sitting, all of us awkward. And then Mr. Potter unbuttoned the cuffs on his shirt and began to roll up the sleeves.

"Molly, I'm not going to hit around the bush here—James told me your dad hurt you. That you got kicked out." Mr. Potter said after a beat. I exhaled heavily, before I looked down at Cormac.

"Go upstairs, Cory," I said quietly. My little brother looked up at me, a hint of irritation on his features.

"I know what you're gonna say to him—" He kept his voice quiet, but that didn't change my orders.

"That's all well and good but you're still going upstairs—" I said firmly.

"I was _there_ when Dad freaked so why can' I—"

"Kid, you're not going to be here for this conversation." I said flatly, my eyes narrowing a little at my brother. "There is nothing you're going to say that's going to change that." Cory was being a pain in the butt, but it was excusable in this one instance: I'd uprooted his entire existence in the last hour. If he felt better about that being difficult, I'd allow him that. "Go upstairs."

"Fine." Cory said after a second, flushing red with embarrassment as he picked up the book, stood, and rushed past us. He stormed up the staircase, and I waited until he'd disappeared upstairs before I glanced back to Mr. Potter and Mrs. Weasley.

"You're hurt?" Mr. Potter prompted again, with a note of concern this time. I nodded, thean held up my wrist, keeping my face carefully composed. I didn't want pity and I didn't want people to take care of me, and if his son's reaction was any indicator, Mr. Potter was going to want this to be a clean-cut problem with a clean-cut solution. And I knew there wasn't.

"Can I ask what set him off, sweetheart?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"Cormac got his Hogwarts letter today." I half smiled, ruefully. "We're muggle-born, so it was unexpected from that, and aside from that, Cory's never shown signs of magic. I was always doing weird crap as a kid and he was just… normal." I let out the breath I'd been holding. "Dad hates magic—he accused me of—infecting Cory or some such thing." I crossed my arms. "The bruise isn't that big of a deal."

"It's not good." Mrs. Weasley pointed out softly.

"Has he hurt you before?" Mr. Potter pressed.

"No." I said firmly.

"Did he hurt Cormac?" Mrs. Weasley continued, and I shook my head once, my weary gaze going from Mrs. Weasley to Mr. Potter.

"Okay, and then…"

"He kicked me out." I said with a sigh. "He's not going to let me back."

"Cory too?"

"He's allowed back for holidays." I murmured, but I said nothing else. I wasn't that interested in sharing my life story with these adults. I liked and trusted Mrs. Weasley—enough. But she had such a happy-everyone's-happy view of the world that it made me think that she'd freak out a little hearing a play-by-play of my night. And I just didn't know Mr. Potter.

"Do you think it's safe to send him back?" Mrs. Weasley asked me doubtfully: I could tell what she thought just from her tone. I tried to smother the resentment building for her. She was just trying to help. She didn't get it though.

"Dad doesn't blame Cory for anything." I had no desire to explain to these people that it had only ever been me on Dad's hitlist. Even with Cory being magical, I strongly suspected that Dad still wasn't going to fear Cory as much as he feared me. I was his eldest and I was "infecting" his kids with magic. Cory was more than blameless—he was a _victim_. Someone who needed pity and aid. Not someone to be blamed.

"Does that make it safe? People who abuse their kids aren't exactly… reasonable…" Mrs. Weasley said carefully.

"He's not abusive." I said quietly. "He's a jackass. But this," I held up my wrist, "Was an accident."

"Here we go." Albus murmured, pushing himself to his feet and pushing past me: I glared at him pointedly. "Ask her whether or not she wants to report him, next. I _dare _you." He walked behind me to a window that looked onto Diagon Alley, stopping there and putting his hands on the sill.

"Al…" Mr. Potter said scoldingly. Mrs. Weasley was studying me though.

"Molly, sweetheart," She said in a kind voice. Uh-oh. She was working too hard to prove with everything from her tone to her facial expression that she was on my side. She thought I was being seriously abused. "Aside from whether or not your father would hurt Cory—we have to call the police." Mrs. Weasley said in her best let's-be-reasonable voice. "Because regardless of whether he would hurt your brother, he's already hurt you."

"Molly, I grew up with my aunt and uncle—my uncle only hit me very, very rarely but it was the way he treated me in general that was the most harmful, compared to the physical conflicts I had with him." Mr. Potter said quietly. I blinked. Mr. Potter—Harry James Potter, boy-who-lived and essential savior of the free wizarding world—had been _abused _as a kid? "It's not healthy for him to treat you in a resentful way when you haven't done anything to deserve it."

"It's not that simple." I said after a second.

"Why not?" Mr. Potter demanded, his eyes a little narrowed at me, but not in a confrontational way. He was just trying to figure out what was going through my head. "Your dad doesn't deserve to abuse his kids and then be protected by them—"

"I'm one of five." I said quietly. "My brothers Nate and Cal and my sister Ellie are all at home. They're muggles, or at least Nate is for sure. Cal and Ellie are seven." I raised my eyebrows. "If I report my dad to the police, the police will take Nate and Cal and Ellie and put them in homes." I met Mr. Potter's gaze challengingly. "I'm not contradicting that you had a hard childhood, Mr. Potter, and I think that what my father did was wrong in the most essential of ways: parents shouldn't hurt their children. But he's not hurting them. It's just me. So please stop acting like you understand what's happening." I sighed quietly. "Because I'm getting Cory and I through this best I can and if that plan means I don't call the police on my father, then that's the way this is going to go."

"Okay." Mr. Potter said, shaking his head after a second. "Tomorrow, Molly, I want to talk to you more about this, but I'll let this sit for right now." He sighed. "Forgive me for the change in topic, but did you tell Cormac before you sent him upstairs that you apparated here?" I nodded. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't you in Albus's year at Hogwarts?"

"Molly, sweetheart… You're fifteen." Mrs. Weasley said faintly. "Rosie is fifteen. If she tried to do that, I'd kill her." Her face seemed extremely pale.

"I'm assuming you weren't spliced, since you're standing before me and I don't see anything…" Mr. Potter said, but there was a dazed tone to his voice. He was as thrown off about this as Mrs. Potter, just better at hiding it.

"Molly, that's just so dangerous—you can never try anything like that ever again, alright?" Mrs. Weasley said earnestly to me. "Ever, ever again." I nodded, and Mrs. Weasley just turned to Mr. Potter. "She _apparated_."

There were a few beats of silence before Mr. Potter straightened up, running his hand through his hair. "I—have to get back to work—Hermione, you should come back too." Mr. Potter was obviously still a little dazed from my confession of apparation. "Make sure that there's no record of Molly's magic—and maybe get started on some wards for underage apparition?" Mr. Potter suggested faintly.

"I can't just let her off without even a _warning_, Harry—" Mrs. Weasley murmured as Albus came back over, coming to stand just behind me. I twisted to look up at him and he just met my gaze for a moment before he looked away. I swallowed, before I looked back at his dad and unt.

"She's your daughter's best friend and—"

"I wasn't _there_ so I wouldn't be able to attest to that it was absolutely necessary in front of the Wizengamot so I can't just write it off unless I can defend her myself—"

"Molly won't have to go in front of the Wizengamot, right?" Albus asked after a second worriedly, leaning forward. I twisted to out-right glare at him now. Albus and I were not friends. He had no right to sound this worried about me. My own parents hadn't demonstrated this level of concern for me.

"No, Al—no, of course not." Mr. Potter said consolingly. "First offense rules and self-defense rules and _Hermione will take care of it_, right?" Mr. Potter demanded. Mrs. Weasley rolled her eyes.

"Alright, I'll—have my assistant botch up the paperwork and make sure Molly's magic never makes it into a file." Mrs. Weasley said in irritation. "But if I get caught, I'm going to tell the inquiry board that gets my case that you made me do it." Mrs. Weasley said incredibly maturely. Mr. Potter shrugged: he didn't care.

Mrs. Weasley looked back at me, seemingly a little embarrassed from being caught acting like an eight-year-old. "Alright, sweetheart, I'll be back late tonight, but Rose will be along in a bit, sweetheart, after she finishes dinner with my parents." Mrs Weasley smiled at me tiredly. "So I'll talk to you tomorrow, alright?" She stood up, smiling at us. "And Al, you might want to bring her by Sera's brother so he can heal her wrist." She looked at me sympathetically. "I know it's just a bruise, but it still looks like it hurts."

"I'll bring her by." Al agreed quietly. Mrs. Weasley smiled at us, then disapparated with a bang, closely followed by Mr. Potter. Al and I stood there for a second before I turned to glare at Albus.

"What are you _doing_?" I demanded. "We're not friends. We're not—anything. You're my best friend's cousin and you're acting like you're _worried_ about me or something. And thanks if you stop acting like you're my flipping—what was that in front of your dad?" I gestured frantically behind me, scowling deeply. "_Ask her, I dare you_. Are you _twelve_?"

"Sorry for worrying about you." Al said with narrowed eyes. I flushed at his words, but made no apologies. I was doing this my way because this was a crappy situation and I couldn't waste my time making apologies for trying to fix this to the best of my abilities. Even if Albus got a harsher end of the bargain than he deserved.

Albus studied me for a second before the fight seemed to leave him: his shoulders slumped a little, and his form stopped being so tense. He reached up and pushed some of his getting-to-be-too-long hair out of his face. "We are too friends." He said after a moment.

"If we're friends then Rose and Scorpius are married." I said mildly. Albus wrinkled his nose. Rose was, against all odds, close friends with Scorpius Malfoy, much to Al and James's distress. They'd both flipped on her several times during our first few years at school, but for all you can say about Rose being attention needing and perhaps not the most modestly dressed girl in the world, she was loyal as hell.

"You can't say things like that." Al said uncomfortably. Then he dropped his expression of discomfort and smiled a little oddly. "No, we're friends though." I frowned up at him, and he pushed by me, walking past me. I almost laughed: as if he thought he got the last word in this.

"And exactly how d'you figure that?" I demanded, turning on my heel to follow him. "Since, you know, I've been here, oh, twenty minutes, and we've spent the entire time snipping at each other."

"Friendship." Albus insisted.

"Enemy-ship."

"Your argument would be more believable if you'd bother to use real words." Al noted, glancing at me over his shoulder with an easy grin. I blinked. Al was happy again. After being angry about my supposed abuse.

God, was this kid moody as _hell_.

"But since we're presenting our evidence: I've known you since we were eleven." Albus began, holding up one finger as he started up the stairs. I followed him, too bewildered to let this go.

"I've known everyone our year at Hogwarts since we were eleven, I'm not friends with all of them—" I protested. "That's ridiculous.

"We sit together on the train every year—" Albus continued, holding up another finger. It was as if he'd never heard me. I narrowed my eyes at him. I didn't take well to being ignored.

"Because Rose is your cousin and my best friend." I said irritatedly. "You two sit together and we sit together but you and I aren't really sitting together though I suppose, strictly speaking, yes, we are in the same compartment."

"We were potions partners second year—"Albus held up a third finger as he stepped onto the landing. He directed himself towards one of the rooms—133. "That means we've collaborated on something before." Al said with an easy shrug of his shoulders. "We're friends."

"Because you needed a partner who actually paid attention because you were two busy _not_ paying attention with Fred Weasley to take notes and my best subject is Potions—" I said angrily as Albus led the way into their room, and I followed him unapologetically, ignoring the fact that Sera and James seemed to be chatting on the bed. I raised my eyebrows—I hadn't seen them floo back from the Ministry and the Potter estate. Of course, I had been a bit distracted. Then I remembered I'd left one of Al's points unaddressed. "We're not friends!" I insisted, but I sounded a little bit like a four-year-old sounding a tantrum. I'd waited too long for my dispute to be taken seriously.

"We're friends." Albus said easily, sitting on his bed and opening his trunk, which was off the end of his bed. He began to rifle through his things as if completely unconcerned with our conversation.

"No, we are _not_!" I said with scowl to Al. "I wouldn't be friends with some—concieted—_wanker_—"

"Language!" Albus tutted, shaking his head in mock-disapproval.

"You're the mental case here, okay?" I said after a second. "You're crazy." I made a frustrated noise before I fell onto the end of his bed, my legs hanging off the end but me lying down, so I was staring up at the ceiling. Then I paused, and pushed myself up on my elbows, realizing that James and Sera had stopped talking to watch us. I blushed but said nothing: Al glanced back at me, then followed my gaze to his brother and Sera, before he also blushed.

"Molly isn't wrong about you being a mental case." James said to his brother.

"Awfully sweet of you to offer your input." Albus said sarcastically.

"I assume Mr. Potter and Mrs. Weasley are gone, if you two are up here," Sera said with an amused smile.

"Yeah, they went back to work—oh, Sera—could Wes heal Molly's wrist if I brought her by St. Mungo's?" Albus demanded of Sera, sounding a little antsy, and the older girl raised her eyebrows at Albus.

"No, it's just a bruise, it doesn't matter—Al, stop it." I ordered, glaring at him.

"You're acting like a two-year-old." He shot back at me.

"If I'm two than you're a freaking _infant_–" I began.

"I'm sorry, correct me if I'm wrong," James began in a bewildered tone. "But are you two losers arguing over whether or not you're friends?" Albus and I fell silent, and I felt an embarrassed blush work it's way up my face: I considered myself more mature than I was acting, right now. "Eh, you're both infants." James decided. "Yes, that seems fair."

"Jamesie, leave them alone," Sera said fondly, her hand tapping James's arm lightly. "Molly, if you would like my brother to heal that, he'd be happy to, I'm sure."

"It's fine, thanks." I said with a tight smile. I glanced back at the door, wondering for a moment whether I should go check on Cory, before Albus's stomach growled loudly. I laughed quietly, but Albus looked too pleased with himself for making me laugh, even if it had been unintentional, so I swallowed the rest of my laughter, rolling my eyes after a second.

"Al, come grab dinner with us—" Sera said lightly.

"No." James and Al said together. Al glared at little at his brother, and James just looked unapologetically up at Al. "I live with the kid. I refuse to spend _more _of my voluntary time with him."

"I practically live with you dorks too—" Sera pointed out.

"Yes, but Albus has a respect for your privacy that does not extend to me." James said irritatedly.

"He's not wrong." Al said with a grin.

"Well, gosh, if Al's not welcome… sorry, kiddo." Sera said, shrugging at Albus. She gestured to us, smiling a little. I was put a little off by her smile—it was as if she knew something that I didn't. "Guess it's just you two for dinner." She said significantly. I groaned loudly in irritation. Ew. Dinner. Alone. With Albus.

"Er—I'll just grab something with Cory—" I tried, shooting Albus a doubtful look. Al flashed me an easy smile, and I felt something nervous start in my stomach. I hated how off my game Al made me feel.

"C'mon…" Al said wheedlingly, and I frowned at him a little: why couldn't he just leave well enough alone? Why in the world would he want to spend time with me when it was so clear that we were not good at being together?

"And I really should write Nate and Cal and Ellie." I muttered, running a hand through my hair.

"Didn't you just spend a lot of energy convincing my dad and my aunt that they'd be fine?" Albus demanded skeptically.

"Mm-hmm, because my parents are super great." I said sarcastically, under my breath. Al didn't move his gaze from my face, though, and I met his searing green gaze for a second before I sighed. "_No_, Al. Cory's going to have two trillion questions and I know he's freaked out and aside from that I need to figure out what Cory needs for school and what _I_ need for school—"

"Your Hogwarts letters." Albus said gently.

"My dad tore them up." I admitted, and Albus winced. In the corner of my eye, I saw James studying his brother as if he were fascinated by what he was doing. I didn't see what was so fascinating. All Albus was doing was bothering me. Nothing particularly new about that. "I have to figure out what I need—"

"You can just buy what's on my list tomorrow," Albus said sensibly.

"Cory needs stuff—"

"Diagon Alley is swarming with new first years, I'm sure some mother will let you copy down her kid's list." Albus suggested easily. I glared at him: he was difficult to argue with. He just wanted to answer all of the problems rather than release me from my responsibility to go to dinner.

"I don't want to ask some random mum to use their kid's list, she'll think I'm mental—" I was whining now, and finding excuses. But Albus was tiring. And I was already tired. "And I have to find a good second-hand place to buy Cory's things cheap—"

"I'll help you find a good place tomorrow." Albus offered gently, putting a hand on my shoulder and guiding me towards the door. "Dinner, though, can't wait." I shrugged my shoulders uncomfortably, squirming away from him and then turning to glare. He continued to advance though, so I fell back a step, and then another.

"Al…" I whined. "I'm exhausted. It's been a long day—and it's Cory's birthday still. Shouldn't I be—I dunno, a good sister? Take care of him or something?"

"Molls, he'll be fine." Albus said, and I glared at him. _Molls_ wasn't an acceptable shortening of my name. My mum called me that when I was little and it'd taken years of tantrums to get Mum and Dad to stop calling me that in public. But it wasn't until I'd turned eleven and gotten my Hogwarts letter that my parents stopped using my nickname at all. I didn't miss it, but it had a lot more weight to it than people assumed.

"Molls?" I asked in a lethal voice, my eyes narrowed. Al raised his eyebrows.

"Molly." Albus repeated a little nervously. He seemed to have realized that this was extremely unwelcome. He paused. Then, he guessed. "Melissa?" He took another step forward. I narrowed my eyes at him.

What was Albus _doing_? This felt like a game but I couldn't figure out what the rules were. He was getting personal—talking me off a ledge, defending me _to myself _in terms of whether or not I should call the police on my dad, cajoling me into dinner. But I didn't understand why he'd ever want to eat dinner with me. Or why he wanted us to be friends. Or how I was supposed to react to all of these wildly unexpected things.

"Molly." I said finally. "Molly Sienna Gale." I flashed him a false smile as he took another step forward and I stepped back against the wall beside the door in James's room. Sera and James were watching us unabashedly, but I didn't care. "And _Molly Sienna Gale_ doesn't leave her brother upstairs while she eats dinner with her _non_ friend." I pulled away from Albus, turning on my toes to walk down the hall towards the room I was sharing with Cory. Albus followed me. Incorrigible prat.

"He's eleven. He won't want to eat dinner with his lame big sister—" Al said teasingly.

"I'm his only big sister." I retorted. "I'm his lame big sister and his cool big sister. So no standards." I snorted in laughter. "And our seven-year-old sister Ellie is the biggest brat in the _entire universe_ so I sincerely doubt that I rank lower than her in terms of—" I fell silent as I opened the door. Cormac was asleep on his bed, his arm thrown over the book he'd been reading upstairs. Poor kid. He'd only been up here alone for fifteen minutes. For him to already be asleep, he had to have been more exhausted than I was.

I grabbed the blanket at the bottom of Cory's bed, shaking it out and draping it over him, before grabbing the book and putting it on his bedside table. I picked up my wand from where I'd dropped it on my bed when I'd moved everything up here with Cory and tapped the lamp on the bedside table, then the one on the desk. I stepped back from the dark room, dropping my wand back on the bed, before I turned to face Al, still in the doorway. I pressed a finger to my lips before shooing him out, and I followed, closing the door quietly behind me.

"He's asleep." Al noted softly, smirking a little as I turned to face him. He was leaning against one side of the thin doorway, while I was still standing with my back to the door, my hand just dropping from the doorknob. "Come eat dinner with me."

"I only eat with my friends, sorry." I said quietly with a half-smile. "And you've yet to make your case as to how exactly it is we're supposed to be friends…"

"I made my case…but let's say, for argument's sake, that we're not friends." Albus said, shrugging his shoulders lightly, the smirk never leaving his features. There was a glint in his eyes that I couldn't quite place: was it humor? Did he think he was making a joke out of me? "Let's make friends. We'll eat, chat. It's completely mundane, nothing to lose."

"Ah, but my dignity wouldn't let me be seen with the likes of _you_…" I said with a small laugh. "My pristine reputation would be _ruined_…"

"Your pristine reputation could take the hit, I reckon." Albus murmured, taking a half-step closer to me. We were very, very close, now, his chest not an inch from mine, his green eyes sharp on me.

"What are you playing at, Potter?" I murmured after a beat. Albus raised his eyebrows.

"And we're back to last names… Gosh, Molly, I thought we were closer than this." Albus said, pressing a hand to his heart. I narrowed my eyes. He hadn't answered my question.

"Hmm I get this now." I said, suddenly understanding what was happening here. Al was, in short, trying to hook up with me. God, was I slow on the uptake.

Oh, Ew.

Ew, if that was what was really happening here, Al was hugely sleazy. Like, a new level of ick. "You get an Outstanding for effort, but a Troll for execution." I told him after a second. Al frowned at me for a half a second before his easy smile returned.

"Well, gosh, Miss Gale, I don't rightly know what you're talking about…" Albus said mock-innocently, and I shook my head with a grin.

"Incorrigible." I murmured. "This is remarkable. You really don't take rejection very well. Or… at all. You reject rejection." I shook my head. "Remarkable."

"If I reject it, perhaps it would be best to accept, then?" Albus suggested.

I snorted in laughter. "No."

"How you wound me…" Albus said dramatically.

"You're obnoxious." I decided after a second, pulling away. "I'm going to go wait for Rose downstairs." I turned to walk backwards, facing Albus with a rueful smile. "And so you know, you see this, right here? This debate? I _won_ that. I cleaned the board. I want props."

"Eh… I have to disagree. You won the battle, maybe. But you're going to lose the war." Al promised with a grin.

"You're about as charming as a toad." I warned. "So the odds are against you."

"And you're as pretty as a princess." Albus said in a sugary voice.

"Get some pride, Potter, and move on." I muttered, rolling my eyes. I turned and faced the hallway, ignoring the boy behind me now. I started down the stairs and then, when I got to the bottom, I made a beeline for the girls' lavatory. I slipped inside, locking the door behind me and turning to face the mirror, pushing my hair out of my face.

What the hell had just happened?


	3. King of Anything

**A/N:**_ Hey guys. This is late, and I'm super sorry-but Saturday was my bestfriendforever's birthdayparty (HAPPY BIRTHDAY) and then sunday was halloween and my seven-year-old cousin demanded i be present at her halloween party, which meant i had to drag myself to her house and then get all of her friends into their costumes and make sure that no creepers kidnapped them while trick-or-treating. Rawr. anyway, then monday i had school. and tuesday was electionnight and that was a big shenanigan in my house. sooooo here is my (very late) chapter. sorry!_

_by the way, next chapter will be hogwarts express. :)_

_xoxo_

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**King of Anything**

_I hate to break it to you, Babe, but I'm not drowning;_  
_There's no one here to save. Who cares if you disagree?_  
_You are not me. Who made you king of anything?_  
_So you dare tell me who to be?_  
_Who died and made you king of anything?_  
_-Sara Bareilles_

"Molly!" Rose cried happily as she flew across the main sitting room of the Leakey Cauldron the next morning. She hugged me tightly, and I frowned grumpily at her. I'd been up until _two freaking AM _waiting for this girl to get herself to the Leakey Cauldron. I was exhausted. And here she was looking happy and awake. Stupid Rose.

"Too early for shouting…" I mumbled sleepily as she pulled away.

"It's practically noon!" Rose said to me with a smile. I snorted in laughter.

"I still have a god-given right to sleep." I mumbled. Rose just grinned unapologetically at me. "Why didn't you get here last night?" I demanded after a second, still grumpy that we could have had this happy reunion last night. "Al and I were up until like two or something."

"Aww, shush, Al already gave me hell about it—I ran into Robbie, I had to stay the night at my grandparents once I went out with him and his friends—" Rose said, and I shot her a look, but said nothing. Robbie Abdel was Rose's ex-boyfriend—one of several hundred. Rose was always dating someone and never for very long. Robbie Abdel had been one of the first muggles Rose had bothered spending her time with—when we'd turned fourteen or so, she'd shifted from only magical kids to muggles too. Her current boyfriend was decent enough, though: Greg Landau, a Slytherin sixth year boy who she'd been dating for the last three weeks.

I gave it another week before I thought she'd dump his ass.

"You went out with Robbie last night?" I demanded in irritation.

"It's just _Robbie_, Molly, Merlin." Rose shook her head. "Harmless as a fly."

"Argh, it's too early for this conversation." I muttered, sauntering towards the table where Albus, James, Serafina, Cory, Hugo Weasley (Rose's little brother), Louis Weasley (Rose's cousin), and Fred Weasley (Rose's cousin and Albus's best friend) were sitting. James, Sera and Louis were sitting at one end, with Albus, Cory, Fred and Hugo at the other, with a handful of empty seats between them. Al had his head down on the table, resting it on his arms, his eyes closed, and a seat away from him, Fred Weasley was in a heated conversation with Hugo. Beside Hugo, Cory was just drawing patterns on the table with his finger. I slipped into the empty seat between Albus and Fred Weasley.

"Good morning sleepy head." Fred Weasley said in a sickly sweet voice. I flicked his arm, scrubbing at my face. Fred Weasley: Al's best friend, his cousin, and legitimately the biggest pain in the ass that existed on this planet. I hated Fred Weasley. I thoroughly disliked Albus Potter, but I really _hated_ Fred Weasley. Al had a couple of redeeming qualities, if he was in a good mood: Fred was just… rude. All the time.

Beside me, Albus sat up properly, and I glanced at him for a second before I looked across the table to Cormac. In the middle of the table was a plate of muffins: I grabbed one and tossed it to him. "Eat breakfast, dude." I ordered in my best do-what-I-say voice.

"I don't like breakfast." Cory said stubbornly, blushing furiously at being bossed around by me in front of the big kids.

"Shush, it's a muffin, it won't kill you." I muttered. "Too tired to argue with you and your muffin hatred." Albus snickered as I folded my arms on the table and rested my head there.

"You took my seat." Rose said resentfully as she came up behind me. "Scoot over." I didn't even dignify that with a stupid response. "Molly…" Rose was whining now.

"We were up till like two AM waiting for you: she gets the seat." Albus said plaintively. Rose made an irritated noise, and I sat up properly, pulling the hair tie out of my hair.

"Fine, fine, stop giving me such a hard time—if I'd known you were waiting I would have owled you." Rose relented. "By the way, Molly, you never mentioned that Cory was magical so it's not like you get to be all mad that I didn't come here last night…" Rose said smugly. I sighed. Rose was in a particularly obnoxious mood today: she was a decent friend, between her annoying parts.

Beside me, Albus prickled. "As it turns out, Rose dear, I was unaware of Cory's magic until last night as well, so you're about as up-to-date as I am." I murmured. Rose paused, before she grabbed the back of my shirt, pulling me off the chair. I stumbled off the chair, wheeling around to glare at her. "Rose, what the hell—" I said angrily as she dragged me after her until we were at least a few feet from the table. "It is _way _too early for this…"

"Calm yourself." Rose said gently, turning back to me when we were out of earshot. "Did your dad flip out?" Rose asked me worriedly. I winced, pushing my hair out of my face, and then nodded. Still, though, it was comforting to know that the only Rose here wasn't just the annoying one who needed looking after. "Aww, hell—I'm so sorry." She said quietly. "I knew this would happen—you told me your dad flipped out about magic sometimes, but I just didn't expect it to get that bad—I didn't think Cory was magic—when you told me Nate wasn't magic—" Rose was rambling, badly.

"It's not _your_ fault…" I said after a beat.

"You asked me to spend the summer at my house!" Rose whispered heatedly to me, panicked. "And I said _no_."

"You said no because your parents and you were going on a trip for all of July—that isn't your fault!" I muttered. "And if I hadn't been home, Cory still would have been magical only I wouldn't have been there." I lifted my hand to tuck my hair behind my ear, and the sleeve of my sweater fell down to my elbow, revealing the bruises. They'd gotten darker overnight—black and purple. Dad had been holding on pretty hard.

"Oh, fuck it—tell me that that bruise is not from your dad…." She muttered.

"Rose, stop, I'm fine—" I said softly.

"You're crap at judging that." Rose said harshly. "Fuck it—I'm so sorry, Molly." She said quickly, the words spilling out. "I should have said yes for you to come to my house—"

"Ugh, you need to chill out." I said firmly.

"My best friend's dad beat up my best friend and I'm not allowed to be a little _distressed_—" She hissed at me.

"I'm not distressed." I said firmly. "And if I'm walking around about as untraumatized as anyone, then no, you _aren't_ allowed to be distressed." I glanced at the table, realizing that while James, Fred, Louis and Sera had just resumed their conversations when we'd walked away, Albus and Cormac were both watching us unapologetically. Stupid boys. "Also," I pointed out, turning back to Rose. "My brother isn't distressed. And he's eleven."

I turned back to the table, going back with my head down and slipping onto the chair. Albus was still watching me, interrupting a conversation he'd just started with Fred Weasley. "You alright?" He asked me quietly, and I saw Fred Weasley roll his eyes, looking away from us. I wasted a moment of my time glaring at him before I looked back to Albus, the scowl dropping from my features.

"'m fine." I said quietly, grabbing the Pumpkin juice in front of Cormac. My brother made an unhappy noise, and I shot him a crooked grin, then took a hearty sip. "Thought you didn't like breakfast food." I said once I'd swallowed.

"'Ou c'red me." He said around his mouthful of muffin.

"You brat." I said fondly, picking up another muffin and chucking it at him as a joke. He caught it, inspected it, brushed off some invisible dust and took a bite. I laughed aloud, and shook my head.

"Does said brat have school supplies yet?" Rose asked me after a second, and I shook my head. "Robes?" Rose asked, sounding more excited. My smile dropped and I scowled at her. I knew where this was going. "Well then... "

"No, Rose—" I winced. "You're _awful_ to go shopping with—"

"I'm a delight to shop with…" She refuted, scoffing.

"False." I said firmly.

"Why is she awful to go shopping with?" Sera demanded, smiling at me uncertainly.

"Because she spends _hours and hours and hours_ shopping." I said to Sera. "You've never known torture until you've shopped with her—she tried on every single color of every single make of robe once at Madame Malkin's before our fourth year. It took three days and halfway through the middle one, Mrs. Weasley was helping me sneak away to other stores." I shook my head. "Nightmarish, I'm telling you."

"Cormac needs robes and who better to buy them—" Rose argued.

"I'm gonna go with him to buy his robes, but first I want to get him his wand." I admitted.

"I get a wand?" Cory piped up, sounding delighted. I frowned.

"You've seen my wand before." I pointed out.

"Not till this summer." Cory murmured, shrugging, and I blushed hastily. Every year before this, my father had forcibly taken my wand from me at the beginning of the summer. This year, I'd gotten into an argument with him about it, and he'd let me keep it but grounded me to my room for two weeks. "I assumed it was for… older kids, or something."

"Well, you get a wand." I said uncomfortably, looking down. "And new robes and you're going to use whatever books I have left over from first year and we'll buy you stuff if you need it." I shrugged.

"I'm taking him." Rose declared.

"First off, I'm on a budget and I've never seen you limit your shopping," I said, raising my eyebrows: this was a serious point. I was on a crazy restrictive budget. If I didn't still have half my first year books in my trunk, I was pretty sure I wouldn't have been able to buy everything Cory and I needed for the school year. "Second off, he's my brother, so I have dibs." I grinned. "And third, you have your own brother. Make Hugo go shopping with you."

"Hugo's fourteen, he's boring…" Rose said.

"Still here." Hugo pointed out, glaring at his sister.

"But Cory's all adorable and eleven—"

"You're ignoring me," Hugo said flatly. "_Great_."

"Since this isn't working," Albus interrupted, "I'm going to propose a solution." I shot him a look, and he flashed me a grin. "Rose will take Hugo and you'll take Cory." I blinked.

"You speak _sense_," I said in a shocked voice.

"And I'll go with Molly." Albus said with a grin.

"_Rawr_, and here I thought you were getting all normal…" I muttered irritatedly.

"Did you just _roar_ at me…?" Albus asked after a second.

"Ugh, I hate you." I muttered, grabbing Cory's pumpkin juice again and taking a gulp. "Cory, go upstairs and get the list on my bedside table and my purse from my trunk?"

"Why do _I_ have to?" Cory demanded, scowling.

"Because you're young and spry and I'm an old lady." I told him.

"You're fifteen." Cormac complained. "Hardly old lady material. Mum's not even old lady material—"

"Go get my stupid stuff, Cormac." I growled at him.

"You're a bully." Cory said in irritation, but still bounced to his feet, passing me to go upstairs.

"You _are_ a bully." Fred said after a second, and I turned to him.

"Fuck _you_, Fred Weasley."

* * *

Two hours later, Rose, Albus, Fred, Cory and I were walking into Madame Malkin's Robe shop, looking around at all the absurdly cut robes. For boys, the style was kind of constant—almost always black, sometimes pinstripe, sometimes dark blue. But with girls, there was style in robes, something that Rose had only convinced me of our second year at Hogwarts. But you could get different lengths, in any color, in any texture, in a different pattern… The variations went on. It was fun to shop for robes with friends—but with Rose, it was a disaster.

"I'm going to try on this one and this one and this one—" Rose said quickly, grabbing a midnight blue, knee length one; a beige, knee length, plaid one; and a fur-lined, white one. Rose's mum had given her a bag of galleons to shop for school things in Diagon Alley. Chances were that 90% of it would be spent on robes and makeup.

"Save some for school stuff." I ordered her.

"Whatever you say, Mum…" Rose said ironically, and I rolled my eyes. Maturity.

"Find yourself three robes." I ordered Cory, giving him a light shove towards the boys' section, which was in the back right of the store. "You can buy new," Cory looked delighted, "As long as they're on, like clearance sale and then we shoplift them." The woman behind the counter looked up at me sharply. "Joking, joking…" I said quickly, and she shot me another warning look before looking back down at the papers in her hand. I turned away from Cory as he took a few steps towards the boys' section, Fred Weasley following him.

"Ooh, if Cory's finding his own robes than you should try this on—" Rose demanded, brandishing a purple robe at me. Albus laughed, but I ignored him. I blinked at the robe, before turning on my heel and joining Cory and Fred.

"I'm going to help you shop." I said firmly.

"Ew, no, please—your friends are here—" Cory said.

"Suck it up, kiddo, I'm not shopping with Rose." I said firmly, stepping up beside Cory and flicking through the boys' robes on hangers, while Fred did the same thing, silently, beside me. "So I'm shopping with you."

"You could shop with me." Al offered, grinning as he popped up beside me.

"You could go away." I proposed.

"Burn…" Fred said, glancing down at me with a grin. Fred Weasley was tall—six feet, six inches tall. He looked down at everyone

"You could go away too." I said with a falsely sweet smile.

"But you would be deprived of my charming presence." Albus pointed out behind me, not about to be turned down so quickly.

"But you see, I'm going to be deprived of my sanity if I stay."

"See, you do drive the girl crazy, Al." Fred said, sliding behind me, and I turned to smack his arm. He yelped, and I turned expressionlessly back to the robes. "Jeezum, she hits hard." Fred muttered to Albus as he came away.

I picked through a few robes, pointedly ignoring Albus, who was picking through the robes that were folded on the table behind me, before I grabbed two extremely cheap robes and passed them to Cory, who had immediately lost interest in clothes shopping. One was black and the other dark blue—the black one would be a little short, but it had an 80% off tag on it. I could do 80% off.

"Try 'em on." I ordered Cory, and he took them, dragging his feet towards the changing rooms. He slipped into one, and I drifted away from the boys' robes, towards the girls' robes. Rose practically snuck up on me, grabbing my shoulder to spin me around and shoving the white, fur-lined one at me.

"So this is too short on me, but you should try it." Rose said with a smile.

"I'm like an inch shorter than you." I scoffed. "If it's too short on you than it's too short on me."

"It'll be really, really cute on you…"

"I don't wear real fur." I told her shiftily, pushing it back to her. That wasn't strictly true—this hadn't been a rule until right now—but I supposed, thinking about it, that that was the case. Really, it was just a decent excuse: I didn't want to battle with Rose's incessant need for me to be stylishly dressed.

"It's faux fur." Rose said approvingly. Then she frowned. "Wait, you think _I'd_ wear real fur? That's _insulting_…."

"Ugh, Ro—"

"Make it up to me by trying it on." Rose said with a grin.

"This will look ridiculous on me—I have shorts on! You won't be able to see them, it'll look like I'm not wearing anything under the robes—" I frowned. "And how exactly will it make me warmer if you can see my legs—"

"It's _magic_, Molly," Rose said whiterhingly. "Now. Try it on."

"That isn't how that works…"

"_Molly!" _

"I hate you. The entire Weasley clan has bratty children and I can't stand _any_ of you." I decided, snatching the robes from her hand and stalking past her, slipping into a room. The curtain snapped shut behind me.

"'ey, Rosie—c'mere, I wanna talk to you." I heard Albus say, and I paused, ducking my head to focus on the floor. "No, over here—" I heard Al insist.

"What—Why?" Rose whined, loudly, and Albus shushed her. I frowned, but didn't move a muscle.

"Ro, just—talk to me seriously here for a sec, okay?" I heard Al whisper, and he seemed farther away. He'd made an effort to move out of my earshot: he just hadn't been successful. "Why does Molly hate me?"

"Why do you _think_ Molly hates you?" Rose responded cryptically.

"Rose!"

"Albus!" Rose mocked softly.

"Rose, I swear to God…" Al hissed. "Tell me."

"Why d'you wanna know?" Rose demanded.

"Because I'm not used to people—_hating_ me." Albus said, sounding a little bewildered. I had to resist scoffing at this revelation: could he have _been_ more arrogant?

"Hmm, I would guess that charming attitude of yours isn't getting you anywhere." Rose pointed out in a lackadaisical voice, as if it were irrelevant. Then she squeaked. "Did you just _pinch_ me?" She demanded, loudly.

"Shhhhhh," Al said hurriedly. "Just—answer my stupid question, Rose." I frowned to myself, leaning back against one of the walls on my dressing room. Al was asking a lot of questions and being awfully insistent about those questions for a boy who shouldn't have cared.

"Molly doesn't like people who put on a show." Rose said finally, her voice quieter. I swallowed. Rose was right—I _didn't_ like people who put on a show. But I'd always assumed I was less transparent than that. "She doesn't like it when people change without warning or reason. She doesn't like people who lie. She's got standards, Al. And they apply to her friends, as well as who she dates." Rose finished seriously. I ran a hand through my hair, before reaching out to pull the curtain back not even half an inch: just enough to spot Al and Rose, talking solemnly in front of the sales rack, across from the dressing rooms. "I know it's a bummer than you don't meet the standards—and to be frank, I'm not sure _I_ even meet them. But she's not being unfair."

"How does she have _standards for her friends_ but lets her dad _hurt_ her and then acts like it's not a big freaking deal? Standards have to apply to—"

"Hush," Rose murmured in response to Albus's rising voice, shoving his shoulder a little with a manicured hand, and glancing towards the dressing rooms: I had to let the curtain drop the last half inch in an instant, my heartbeat tripling. Rose was silent for a moment, before she continued. "And I'm, honestly, not sure how that works. And I'm no more pleased with that whole… situation, than you are. But I'm handling it better, you big baby." Rose said decisively.

"I'm trying." Albus said irritatedly.

"I know, I know." Rose said softly. "But Molly's hard to get to know. I didn't learn that she had siblings until third year. We've been best friends since first." I bit my lip: this was true, and it sounded bad. "Cut her some slack."

"I'm _trying_—"

"Yeah, well, she's having a rough couple of days. Either try harder or just hang in there and try again next week." Rose said firmly.

There was a few beats of silence. "Okay, that's all well and good," Albus said after a second. "But I was kind of hoping for you to, oh, give me pointers on how to not be absolutely abhorred by the girl in the changing room. Your suck-it-up advice is welcome, though." I smothered a smile even in the privacy of my dressing room, ducking my head. Albus was this contrary to everyone, not just me. It was pretty funny to hear, when I didn't have to actually respond.

"You're the worst." Rose muttered. "And didn't I tell you she doesn't like people who put on a show?" I heard Rose snort in laughter. "I'm not going to dig you a bigger hole by helping you fake who you are for her." I sighed, pulling on the robe and tying the robe around my waist: it was a winter cloak, and closed in the front.

I pushed open the curtain, stepping out and looking in the mirror. The robe was actually adorable: it stopped two inches above my knee, and had a faux-fur lining. It was white velvet and very, very warm. It was extremely preppy looking, but I could maybe get over that.

But it probably cost a trilliondy galleons. And I wasn't even willing to spend _one_.

"Oh, you look adorable." Rose said smugly, looking at me in the mirror that I was standing in front of. "I was so right about that…" She continued.

"Grow up." I ordered. Rose could get a little too self-satisfied when she was right about things: it tended to lead me to not want to tell her when she was right even when she was.

"Buy it and wear it to the Holiday Dance." Rose demanded. I sighed shortly. The Holiday Dance.

The Holiday Dance was modeled on the Yule Ball, but since it only happened once every hundred years with the Triwizard Tourament, the school had kindly created the Holiday Dance. For fourth-year-and-below, it was mostly a place to dance with your friends and eat snowflake-shaped cookies. Starting in fifth year, though, it was a big freaking deal. Girls bought dresses over break for the holiday dance.

"I need a dress before I get a proper cloak to put on over it." I told Rose with a rueful smile, turning back to her and Albus as I smoothed it down. Al sharp gaze was on me, and I met it levelly for a moment, before I looked back at Rose. "And it's far too short. And expensive."

"You're just searching for problems with it," Rose said irritatedly. "Buy it! You'll look gorgeous for the ball." I undid the belt, and slipped it off, turning it around to lift the tag: my eyes widened at the price.

"I'm not sure I can even afford to try this on." I muttered, holding it back out for Rose. She took it, frowning down at it. She put it down on the table, smiling a little at me.

The curtain behind me opened, and I turned: Cory came out, shifting awkwardly in black robes that were a little too big on him. "I don't like robes." Cory said. "I feel like a girl. In a dress." I chuckled, looking him over.

"You only have to wear them during classes." I told him. "And every single other boy there will be in robes too." I paused. "And you wear pants and a shirt under it, it's not like a dress."

"It feels like a dress." Cormac insisted.

"Fine, fine, take it off and try the blue one on and I'll get you some dress robes in your size." I told him. Cory turned away, scowling, and ducking back into the dressing room. I turned around, to face Rose again.

"I'll buy it." Rose volunteered, and I felt a stab of discomfort hit my stomach. Rose was being nice. She meant what she had said in the most harmless way possible. But it still made me flinch. I knew I was in a disaster of a situation here. I didn't like having it pointed out to me again though.

"No." I said firmly, shooting Rose a look. "Cormac and I aren't a charity." I muttered uncomfortably to her.

"I didn't mean that." Rose said with a look at me, but I still turned, walking deeper into the store to look at the other clearance racks. Rose just meant to help, I knew.

But it still sucked to hear.

* * *

"Molly!" Someone called out later that afternoon as Rose, Albus, Fred, Cormac and I sat at a table in Madame Murdoch's Tea Spot. I twisted in my seat to look around, and Al put a hand on my back to balance me; I lifted my gaze to him, challenging him. I saw Fred smother a smile, looking away as he lifted a hand to cover his mouth, and Rose grinned at me unapologetically.

"Hands off." I ordered quietly as I spotted Mr. Potter heading towards us. Albus's dad stepped up to the table as Al's hand dropped from the small of my back.

"Hey guys, I'm sorry to bother you all—are you having a nice lunch?" He said kindly. Rose nodded happily, but AL frowned up at his dad.

"Dad, aren't you working today?" He asked.

"Yeah, Al, I am—this is actually part of work." Mr. Potter said with an apologetic glance at me. "Molly, hon, come with me for a moment?" Mr. Potter asked. I frowned at Mr. Potter before nodding and pushing myself off the chair, hopping the short way to the ground. Cory looked at me nervously, and I smiled a little at him.

"Stay with Ro, okay?" I ordered, and he nodded. Mr. Potter led me away from the table, back towards the doorway of the tea shop, and I felt Albus's eyes on the back of my neck even as I pointedly ignored him. I'd been hoping that Al would lose interest if I just… ignored him.

It wasn't working, in case you hadn't noticed.

We stopped a few feet to the left of the door, Mr. Potter looking at me seriously for a moment before he spoke. "Molly, I'm not sure you know this," Mr. Potter said carefully. "But there are a lot of recently made laws on children guardianship and abuse, specifically in the Wizarding World." Mr. Potter tried to smile at me, but I exhaled heavily. I didn't like where this was going. "Since your dad abused you, and kicked you out of your home, temporary guardianship of Cory and yourself had been granted to Rose's parents, Ron and Hermione Weasley." I felt my heartbeat roar in my ears. "Due to the allegations of abuse, you are required by law to talk to a licesnsed professional about the abuse." I wasn't happy with this. At all. "You're not going to like this, so I'm just going to cut to the chase: I'm hoping you'll come talk to Wes Finnigan about the situation with your dad because he's the healer we keep on hand to talk to abuse victims." He said after a beat. My eyes narrowed.

"No." I said quietly. "No to the millionth degree—I am _not_ being continuously abused, my dad hurt me once, accidentally; my little brother will have a legitimate mental breakdown if he realizes that our parents lost custody of him; my _parents_ are my parents, still, and they have rights, even if they are muggles, and they are my legal guardians until some _muggle_ legal authority decides to remove me from my home, since Wizarding Law _can't_ be enacted on muggles; I'm not talking to a man I don't know who doesn't know my family situation _about _my family situation." I hissed heatedly, not caring that I was being outright rude to Mr. Potter. He'd crossed the line first.

"Molly, if a magical child is in the custody of a muggle who is hurting them, the new laws allow for the Ministry to remove the child from the household." He said completely calmly. I felt the bottom of my stomach drop out.

"You removed me from the custody of my parents?" I demanded hollowly.

"Molly—" He began quietly.

"I can't freaking believe this." I hissed.

"Molly, no one in good conscience could leave you there." Mr. Potter said firmly to me.

"Oh my God." I said angrily, putting my hands on my hips. "Holy—Merlin! You crossed like twelve different lines here! I'm best friends with your _niece_—you had _no right at all_ to march into my life and remove me from my parent's guardianship and give Mr. and Mrs. Weasley the right to boss me around—I'm no one's kid but Roger and Niamh Gale's."

"Molly, calm down—that's not why I want you to meet with Wes," Mr. Potter said heatedly to me, before he took a deep breath. "Wes was fourteen when his parents disappeared. He was left in charge of Sera." Mr. Potter fixed me with a look, and I reined in my anger, trying to smother it. "You're fifteen, and your dad kicked you out of the house. You told me last night and Ron and Hermione this morning that you felt very responsible for Cormac." He raised his eyebrows, meeting my gaze seriously. "It's hard not to see the parallels, Molly." Mr. Potter was drawing parallels between the Finnigans and my family. Ugh. If I hadn't hated Mr. Potter already for removing me from my parents' custody, I hated him for that.

The Finnigans were, to put it nicely, an epic disaster in the history of children's protection services at the Ministry. Like, so epic, that they were now featured in handbooks on how to handle situations like theirs.

Sera and Wes had been at Hogwarts when their parents disappeared on an undercover job for the Ministry. But the Ministry had refused to acknowledge their disappearance until months later, which left Wes and Sera without guardians. Which hit the newspaper when Sera got attacked and Wes had to sign papers and such nonsense for her. There were a bunch of attacks, and a couple of them seriously hurt a few people—including James Potter, Louis Weasley (Albus and Rose's cousin), Lily Potter (Albus and James's sister), this sixth year named Rory Corner and Alec Thomas, who was head boy this year. Eventually, their grandmother got custody rather than their godparents, and a little after their mum's body turned up, Sera had discovered that their grandmother was the person who'd done all the attacks, and most importantly, killed their mum. I remembered hearing about it my first year on the Hogwarts' Express.

Anyway, the point is, that being comparable to them was like being compared to a war-ravaged, third-world country: _really bad_.

"Their grandmother got custody of them and she was very much against Sera and Wes's mixed magical heritage… she was quite cruel." Mr. Potter continued, and I felt short of breath. Mr. Potter was being ridiculous.

"What happened to the Finnigans was _horrible_. But neither that nor any laws that stemmed in what happened to them should give _anyone_ the right to remove me from my parents' custody!" I growled.

"Let me finish, Molly." Mr. Potter insisted quietly. "You told me last night that I don't understand what it's like—being in charge of a kid when you're only a kid yourself, not having a safe place to live—" Mr. Potter shrugged his shoulders, conceding this point. "That was a cry for help. And worse than that being a cry for help, what you said was _true._ I don't understand, at least, not on every level." Mr. Potter's green gaze, identical to Albus's was piercing my own, and I ran a hand through my hair, pushing it out of my face irritatedly. "But Wes does."

"You _mental case_," I hissed. "Dad isn't abusive, you have no right, I don't care what your motives are! You can't just be some freaking vigilante—you know, my parents didn't kick _Cormac_ out. Just me. They didn't hurt _Cormac_. Just me. So maybe, somewhere in your twisted brain, you can excuse this. You can convince yourself that you're working for the greater good or making things better or _something_ like that. But for Cory, you're just—_traumatizing _him! My mum loves him, my dad loves him and he loves _them_!" I pulled a hand through my hair, feeling angry tears work their way into my eyes. "You have _no_ idea what you're doing and it's _hurting_ Cormac!"

"You have to talk to Wes Finnigan by law." Mr. Potter said in a gentle voice. "I thought it would be easier to talk to Wes then it would be another child advocate—" He stopped, falling silent and studying me for a moment before he continued. "I really didn't want to _make_ you talk to Wes." Mr. Potter said regretfully. "But I can't just let you drift along—you don't have a plan, here. Cormac's eleven. He needs parents. And so do you, though you obviously don't agree—" Mr. Potter sighed exhaustedly. "You're going to talk to Wes." I opened my mouth to protest, and he started in again. "And, yes, before you say anything, I do get to tell you to do this. Since you're friends with Albus and you're not currently in anybody's custody, you've got to be someone's responsibility." Mr. Potter fixed me with a serious look. "I told Wes to expect you."

I gaped up at the man for a second before realizing that I had no chance. I turned away from Mr. Potter. I stalked over to the fireplace, keeping my head down. I grabbed a handful of floo powder and stepped inside, shooting Mr. Potter a look, and then I glanced at Albus. He was watching me with a frown, and I looked at him, then glanced at his father pointedly, before I threw down the floo powder. "_St. Mungo's Hospital,_" I said clearly, and as I went up in flames.

A moment later, I was spinning through the dizzying array of fireplaces—and then I landed carefully in a fireplace. I stepped out, trying to make sure I'd stay upright: I always got disoriented enough to fall over, when I was flooing places.

I crossed through the swinging doors that led to the main lobby, walking up to the main desk there and tapping the desk with my fingers, meeting the gaze of the one girl who looked up. "Hi, I'm looking for Dr. Finnigan—"

"Is it an emergency?" She asked me.

"No." I said firmly. "I think I have an appointment? He's expecting me…"

"Your name?" She asked.

"Molly Gale." I said.

"Okay—yeah, he left a note—just go up to his office, it's on the third floor," She looked up at me. "You get off the elevator and take a right, you can't miss it." I nodded, turning and looking around the room, before spotting the hallway that led to the elevators. I crossed to it, dodging some chairs on my way over, before slipping down the hallway and to the elevators. One of the elevators was open, and I hopped inside, punching in the button for the third floor. The doors creaked shut, and the elevator shot up, making me wince: I hated elevators. I was a little claustrophobic, and elevators were not great for that.

The doors opened, and I did my best to walk casually out, and turned right, looking at the doors there. There were three, and the one in the middle said Dr. Wesley Finnigan on it. I went up to it, hesitating before I knocked.

"Come in," A man's voice ordered behind the door, and I went inside, looking at the young man behind the desk. Wes Finnigan had sandy hair and the same sprinkled freckles as his little sister, though he was taller—over six feet, though not by much. His eyes were an odd color—hazel, but more golden—and he was wearing those hideous lime green robes that all healers were required to wear. I hated that color. "You must be Molly," Wes said with a smile. "Have a seat."

He closed the file that had been open on his desk as I sank into the armchair opposite his desk, then looked up at me. He hesitated. "I'd say nice to meet you, but I actually think I've met you before," He tilted his head to the side, squinting at me a little. "I think I gave you detention your third year?"

"You were headboy and Rose and I were out after curfew." I agreed in a clipped voice, nodding.

"Yeah," Wes said with an easy smile, but my expression stayed blank. "So you're Gryffindor?" Wes clarified, and I nodded. "And Mr. Potter told me that your brother just got his letter—d'you think he'll be Gryffindor?" I almost shifted resentfully.

"Hope so." I said quietly. Wes studied me for a second and I just held his gaze firmly.

"Okay, so Molly, you're obviously not falling for this, so I'll cut to the chase: I'm the healer who talks to the kids who are abuse victims." Wes said seriously after a moment, and I raised my eyebrows in surprise. "I think you know that Mr. Potter asked me to talk to you. He mentioned something about your dad flipping out when your brother got his letter." He looked at me. "He said that you felt responsible and he wanted me to talk to you because I was only a year younger than you when my parents disappeared and I started taking care of Sera."

"Wes." I said quietly, and I leaned forward to look at Wes seriously. "Everything is different from that. My dad only hates me but my little brother is still allowed in my house. I have two _other_ little brothers and a little sister who I had to leave behind because they're muggles and my dad is good to them." I narrowed my eyes. "Your problem was that you had no family. Everyone wanted to take care of you, but no one had the legal right to." I swallowed. "My problem? No one wants Cory and me. We've got more family than we freaking know what to do with. But they _don't want us_." I sat back in my chair, shaking my head a little. "Everything's different, Wes."

Wes was silent for a moment, watching me cryptically. "That's got to be scary." He noted. "Getting kicked out. Having Cory be dependent on you."

"I'm a big girl." I said with an ironic smile. "I can handle it." I shrugged.

"I was scared when my parents disappeared. And I had godparents and my dad's friends from school." Wes said with surprising ease: he was talking about serious stuff. "It wouldn't be bad to be scared."

"I'm not scared." I muttered.

"Maybe you're not scared of anything, but you're scared _for_ people. For your brothers and for your sister." Wes said quietly. "I'm scared for Sera. When we lived with our grandmother, I was _terrified_ for Sera. She's my little sister and she wasn't safe."

"I'm sorry about what your grandmother put you though, I am. But my dad loves Ellie, Nate, Cal—he even still loves Cory. I'm the only freaking problem." My voice got shaky, there: uh-oh. I pushed myself to my feet. "I'm sorry for wasting your time."

"Molly…" Wes tried, standing up himself, but I just shook my head, turning and pushing out the door, closing it behind me with a muffled _bang._ I took off down the hall, slipping into the elevator bank and when I didn't immediately see an elevator, I slammed open the door for the stairs and took off down them.

Everyone just needed to leave well-enough alone.


	4. Worry About it Later

**A/N:** _Hey guys—  
Late again, but for a good reason: I had basketball tryouts this week. Good news, I made varsity. Bad news, I've got practice FIVE FREAKING DAYS A WEEK. God help me. My arms are in an impossible amount of pain.  
Also, just to clear this up because there was some (extremely understandable) confusion: Fred Weasley mentioned in my story is not George Weasley's twin, but his son. According to a family tree of the Weasley Family made my JKR (anything written to her is akin to my holy text) this is the Weasley family tree:_

_Harry & Ginny-James Sirius, Albus Severus, and Lily Luna Potter  
Ron & Hermione-Rose and Hugo Weasley  
George & Angelina-Fred and Roxanne Weasley  
Percy & Audrey- Molly and Lucy Weasley  
Charlie Never has children  
Bill & Fleur- Victoire, Dominique and Louis Weasley_

_By the way, if this gets confusing again, further on, feel free to message me. :)_

_xoxo

* * *

_

Worry About It Later

"_It's easy to blame chaos on the ones with cloaks and daggers  
who push the hidden hands that hold the strings of ultimate control  
when you ain't got love."  
_—_brakesbrakesbrakes_

"_Hogwarts, A History_ says that the Hogwarts Express has been taken students to Hogwarts for the last two hundred years." Cormac told me quietly as we stood on Platform 9 ¾. Cory, Rose and I were waiting to get on the train, while Rose's brother Hugo talked to his friends a few feet away; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were putting Cory's, Rose's, Hugo's and my things on the train for us. Awfully kind of them, considering that I was still not particularly pleased with their guardianship of me.

I'd kind of been weird about that, actually: I hadn't _told _Cormac that our parents no longer had custody of us. And perhaps even worse, I didn't feel bad about it: I was just protecting him. The fact of it was, Cory was eleven. It'd only been a week and a half since Dad had hurt my wrist, had kicked me out of the house and scared Cory out of his mind—I wasn't going to add to his mental trauma. Cormac was acting like everything was A-Okay, but I knew better. It was a Gale family trait, keeping your emotions hidden. And Cormac had inherited it in spades.

I planned on hiding it from him for a while, and as part of that—I had to still send Cormac home for break. Not only because I was trying to hide the custodial issue from him, but I could tell that he missed Nate and Mum and Dad and Cal and Ellie. He'd never admitted to that, but he'd had a couple nightmares. He hadn't even told me about those—he'd woken up in tears once, and it'd woken me up. Poor kid was pretty distressed. And I was going to take every precaution to keep him from being unhappier.

I wasn't sure, however, how the Weasleys would feel about my sending Cormac back to our family, even for just two weeks. It wasn't that I cared personally. No matter who had legal custody, my family was my family, and everyone else was just—around. But I'd known Mrs. Weasley long enough to understand that she wouldn't just let something she was uncomfortable with sit. She and Mr. Potter had already removed me from my parents' custody and not told me until the deed had been done. Who knew what she'd do about me sending Cory home over the holidays?

"Before that there were no wards on apparition," Cormac continued, and I pulled him against me, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. Cormac loved information when he was facing a new situation, and he loved _sharing _that information. Sometimes it was adorable, even endearing, when he spurted these random facts that no one gave a damn about. But right then, all it was doing was making me a little homicidal. "And there were also no wards on the Hogwarts grounds against apparition so students just apparated to school instead of taking the Hogwarts Express but then a student named Lola Lopez spliced herself going to Hogwarts and her toes and nose all ended up in America and they only ever found her big toes so—"

"Hush." I ordered, but Cory just glanced up at my questioningly. "Alright, kiddo, you're not reading that anymore." I told him, shooting Rose, beside me, a bewildered look, and she laughed softly. I was still confused though: how could your nose and toes get spliced?

"Is that possible?" Rose asked, frowning. She was still hung up on the splicing thing too.

"It most certainly is!" Mrs. Weasley said in a scolding voice. "Which is why _underage witches and wizards_ aren't supposed to apparate!" Mrs. Weasley continued firmly as she walked up, shooting me a serious look. Mrs. Weasley had given a hundred thousand little hints like that: I got the message already. I didn't regret disapparating though. It'd helped my little brother.

"Hermione, love, she gets the message," Mr. Weasley said gently, coming up beside her and capturing her hand in his. I liked Mr. Weasley—he was really easy-going, and loved hearing about my brothers. When I'd been younger and been a little stupider, I'd wished that he was my own dad—but, of course, now that he was the male half of my legal guardians, all I wanted was for him to get the hell away from me.

Mr. Weasley looked at his daughter. "Rosie, angel, do me a favor and treat the prefect badge well, hmm?" Mr. Weasley said with a smile, obviously switching subjects, and Rose gave an uncertain smile to her father. Her prefect badge was carefully hidden in her bag—she'd not wanted to wear it so she'd wrapped it in a sweatshirt and hidden it at the bottom of her bag. Rose liked to consider herself something of a rebel—and this prefect badge was just completely contradicting that. I also knew her well enough to know that she'd rather die than report someone—there were going to be _no _detentions given out by the Gryffindor prefects.

The fact that Rose had even gotten a prefect badge had surprised both her and her parents—she was smart, but not really well-behaved. Unfortunately, though, the only other person eligible for her badge was me: there had to be one girl prefect and one boy prefect from each house, from each year, starting in fifth year. And I didn't qualify for it, because I had a "certain disdain for authority" (direct quote from the aging Professor Sinistra, who taught me Astronomy, one of my least favorite subjects).

"Or at least don't lose it, Love," Mrs. Weasley said fretfully, reaching out to smooth down her daughter's hair, and Rose shrugged uncomfortably, pulling away from her mother. "I know you're not very pleased about it, but it's an honor—"

"Mm-hmm." Rose agreed vaguely.

"And never be late for your nightly rounds—" Rose made a choking noise.

"Nightly rounds?" She demanded.

"Prefects have to make them every night." I said to her, smothering a mocking smile, and she wailed softly, all façade of trying to impress her parents with her calmness gone.

"I'm not giving up my _evenings_—" Rose protested, sounding alarmed, and I couldn't help but laugh a little at how dramatic she sounded. "No—c'mon—can I just return the stupid badge? I'll be a miserable prefect, you know that Mum—I'll just give it back to Uncle Neville and it'll be fine—" Mrs. Weasley glared at her, and Rose, realizing that this wasn't an option, looked at me desperately. "Want it?"

"Absolutely not." I scoffed, snorting in laughter, and Mrs. Weasley shifted her glare to me. I almost rolled my eyes—I couldn't win with this woman, she wanted her kid to want the prefect badge and she wanted everyone else to want it too?—but instead I fell silent, meeting her gaze firmly. I wasn't scared of Mrs. Weasley. She might have been ridiculously smart and a war hero and my legal guardian, but I was just as strong-willed as she was.

Mrs. Weasley glared at me for a moment longer before looking away first, and I glanced down at my brother, dropping my arm from around Cory's shoulders. "Kid, let's go get on the train, alright?" I said with a small smile. "We'll find you a compartment and I'll save us one, alright, Rosie?" I suggested, glancing up at Rose.

"I have to sit with the stupid prefects in the stupid prefect car…" Rose said in an irritated voice.

"Who am I supposed to be sitting with then, oh best friend of mine?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. I supposed I knew this—prefects sat in the prefect car. But I hadn't really applied that knowledge to Rose.

"We always sit with the boys anyway, just sit with them." Rose said, waving her hand at me.

"I'm not sitting with Albus and Fred without you." I said carefully, enunciating my words perfectly. Rose grinned. "I'll tear my hair out long before we ever get to Hogwarts." I continued tersely, and at this, Mr. Weasley chuckled. Even Mrs. Weasley cracked a smile, and I glared resentfully at them. My serious disdain for Albus and Fred had become something of a family joke, once the adults had joined us in Diagon Alley and realized how much I hated Albus, and how little he cared.

"Unless you're going to be _super cool_ and sit with the first years—" Rose said sarcastically and gestured to Cory, who frowned at this idea, "You're going to have to sit with Fred and Al." I groaned, looking away. I didn't have that many friends and I really, really hated having that pointed out to me, but that was _exactly_ what was going on here. I wasn't a social person, and usually I got by with Rose as my best friend and then kind of tolerating the boys when I had to. Unfortunately, the when-I-had-to thing had never lasted the eight hours it took to get to Hogwarts. So, I was a little out of practice.

"Okay, then I guess I'll go find them and grab a compartment with them—" I said slowly, unhappy with how this was working out. I pouted for a second. "I need more friends." I muttered.

"Agreed." Rose said unhelpfully, and I scowled at her and flicked her arm, then put a hand on Cory's back, leading him away from the Weasleys.

We pushed through the crowds of people, and I said hi to a couple of people before Cory and I got to the train doors. Suddenly, I bumped into someone, and I glanced up, blushing as I realized I'd bumped into Rory Corner, a sixth year Gryffindor. Rory was handsome in a kind of generic way—with five feet eleven inches (an inch shorter than Al), searing blue eyes, and brown hair that was kind of casually messy. He wasn't exceptionally well-muscled, but he was fit. Normally Rory—despite his attractiveness—would not have been even a bleep on my radar. The reason I even cared about Rory Corner's existence at all was because his grades on the OWL were _legendary_: he'd applied for and _received _all twelve OWLs. He ended up only taking nine of the actual classes but he was an incredible student and probably going to be the Head Boy next year. Teachers were always using him as the example, and he was well-loved by every adult in the school.

"Rory, hey," I said, smiling at him.

"Molly Gale—just the girl I was looking for—" He said with an easy grin, as Cory tore away from me and darted up the train steps, then turned into the hallway. I glanced after him, then looked at Rory and raised my eyebrows: I was embarrassed, but I wasn't going to show it if someone held a gun to my head.

"I think I just got ditched by my eleven-year-old brother…" I said carefully. "I hope you're impressed."

"Just stunned." Rory said with a smile, and I hesitated, then cracked a half of a smile back. I'd give Rory the benefit of the doubt. Rory grinned after a beat, seemingly pleased with something, and then he continued. "So I hate to talk business when you are obviously too cool to do such a thing, but are you the Gryffindor fifth girl prefect?"

"Nope, that would be Rose Weasley." I said with a nod. Everyone was always looking for Rose. Did I sound jealous? I was, a little. But I was Rose's best friend. I'd gotten over most of my jealousy a long time ago. You couldn't be Rose's best friend without giving up that battle.

"Ew, really?" Rory said, and then he caught himself: I smirked, permitting myself a single chuckle while he scrambled to look properly apologetic. "I—didn't mean that the way it sounded."

"No, it's fine—I know she can be a bit of a pain to work with." I said, shrugging. "My Charms grade dropped to an A when she was my partner third year."

"She's just… easily distracted." Rory said with a rueful grin, hefting a backpack on his shoulder a little higher up. "And perhaps a little distracting." He admitted with a shrug. I nodded once, pressing my lips together so they formed a line. "So, Molly, how was your summer?"

"Fine." I said noncommittally. Or, really, lied noncommittally. My summer hadn't been fine. But I also wasn't about to volunteer that information. Rory was smart and cute and I wasn't about to scare him away with tales of the Gale family and the breakdown of our general family dynamic. "How was yours?"

"Pretty good until the end—my idiot of a little brother swiped my wand and cursed my room accidentally…" Rory chuckled embarrassedly to himself. "My walls sing now. My dad undid most of it but my closet's being _pretty_ stubborn…" Rory shook his head.

I laughed a little at this, though I kept my guard up, and didn't say anything. "The weird part is, they sing in German—and you wouldn't think it, but it's _kind of _distracting." Rory continued as if this were a revelation, grinning still.

"I can barely believe it." I said, shrugging and smiling at him a little. "_I_ know _I _can't work unless _my_ walls are singing to me in German…" Rory laughed, sounding like a little kid, and the sound made me laugh a little myself: his laugh was infectious like that. "Your brother sounds like mine—how old is your brother?"

"Eight." Rory said with a grin. "As of today. Kid won't let me forget it—he's bouncing around here somewhere." Rory gestured to the Platform. "D'you have just the one brother or other siblings?" He asked curiously.

"I'm actually one of five, but that sounds most like the seven-year-old twins, one boy, one girl—definitely something they would do." I admitted. "And they bounce all the time. Not just on their birthday."

"They'd be the same year at Hogwarts as Logan." Rory pointed out.

"Actually, I'm muggle born, and so far only two of five are magical so jury's still out on that." I said carefully, pushing my hair out of my face as I tried to think of something else to talk about. I loved my family but I didn't know Rory that well, and I didn't want to talk about them to him.

"You're muggleborn?" Rory demanded, raising his eyebrows. I ducked my head in a nod. "Weird, I guess I assumed you and Rose knew each other when you came to Hogwarts—" He said, and I nodded again—a lot of people thought that. For all that I didn't make friends easily, Rose weren't you two best friends even at the beginning of first year?"

"When you're the only two Gryffindor girls your year, and there are five Slytherin girls, it becomes pretty necessary to be close friends." I admitted.

"Your year has all that conflict with the Slytherin kids—I guess with Rose and Albus, that becomes pretty fact-of-life, huh?" Rory asked, and I nodded, rolling my eyes. Our conflict with the Slytherins was pretty bad—the worst since Harry Potter's year, according to the teachers, who handed out detentions like it was nothing. The year above had had a few issues their first and second years, but we had full-on-wars with the kids: it had gotten so bad once that every Slytherin and Gryffindor kid our year had gotten detention after on incident.

"You have no idea." I informed him.

"Excuse me, James is my year, and Sera and one Slytherin boy are always having problems—you can imagine." Rory said, grinning still, and I laughed softly. There was a beat of silence before Rory rubbed the back of his neck. "If I didn't have to sit in the prefect car, I would ask you to be in my compartment—as is, I'll just catch you for a Chocolate Frog at some point, alright?" Rory asked, and I smiled at him, tucking a few strands of hair behind my ear.

"Sounds great." I told Rory. He nodded.

"I have to go find Rose, make sure she actually makes it to the prefect car, but I'll see you later, okay?" Rory said, and I nodded. He walked past me, and I twisted to glance at his retreating back, still smiling a little.

And that smile would have stayed put had the following not happened: Albus Potter decided to show up.

He came up behind me, and I glanced up and back at him as he paused at my side. "Was that Rory Corner?" Al asked, a sort of pained expression on his face, and I nodded, the smile still on my lips as I pushed some of my hair out of my face. "What'd he want?"

"None of your business." I said after a beat, realizing I was being sappy and suddenly embarrassed by that. I didn't actually like Rory—I knew myself well enough to recognize that. But I thought it was nice he was interested, at the very least.

"Mm-hmm," Al said skeptically, and I narrowed my gaze at him; he grinned at the familiar reaction, slinging an unapologetic arm around my shoulders. "So I guess you're sitting in my compartment on the train." He said, grinning.

"Ugh, don't remind me." I muttered exasperatedly as I tried to remove his arm from my shoulders: he kept a firm grip, though he wasn't hurting me, so I let my arms drop. "That right there is insentive enough for me to become an actual social creature, try making friends." I shuddered at this idea, mostly as a joke. A little truth was in the sentence, though: I was about as social as I was required to be to be friends with Rose. "Compartment with you for eight hours—I'm going to kill myself."

"Your words hurt me so, my dear—" Albus said somberly, and I began to pull away from him: his arm dropped to around my waist when it fell from my shoulders, and almost naturally, his hand fit to my hip and he pulled his arm in, turning me so I was pulled against him. I put my hands on his chest, but didn't push away quite yet, too surprised to move. His own expression flickered to surprise before he carefully hid his own emotion as well, his gaze piercing mine. I felt dazed, caught off guard—things I was patently _not comfortable_ with. I liked being in control. And here Albus was, pulling me against him without even asking. And worse than that, my instinct, the very first thing I thought to do, was _not_ to push him away.

And then he grinned at me, and I resisted the urge to smack him.

"Albus Severus Potter, you have the self-control of a four-year-old." I murmured to him, not moving. "And you should be glad I have more than you do, or else this little stunt right _here—_it would be the _last_ thing you'd ever do." I raised my eyebrows in a challenge, but Al's grin had softened to something like a smirk but less snarky. I swallowed, then shoved his chest, pushing myself away from him and looking down, wrapping my arms around my stomach. I felt jittery somehow, and in the edge of my vision, I saw Albus run a hand over his always-messy hair, trying to press it down while he avoided looking at me.

"Miss Molly," Fred sang as he came up. I glanced at Al instinctively, seeing he was glancing at me—had Fred seen whatever that little thing just was? I doubted it when Fred looped an arm around my shoulders, and I glared up at him violently: I was still recovering from what had just happened.

"You have five seconds to remove your arm from my shoulders before I hurt you." I hissed.

"Ah, how pleasant our Molly is today." Fred said grandly, and I rolled my eyes.

"My threat still stands." I told him firmly.

"Cheerful as a ladybug." Fred said charmingly.

"And you're as useless as one—remove your arm from my shoulders, or I'll remove your arm from _your_ shoulder." I retorted, shooting him a withering glare. He let me go.

"You drive a hard bargain." He said appreciatively, then looked up at Albus. I followed Fred's gaze: Albus's gaze hadn't left me, his green eyes firmly on my face, and when my gaze met his, he raised his eyebrows. I refused to move my gaze—I would _not _be the first one to look away—and after a second, Al just looked at Fred, rubbing the back of his neck. "So are we going to be getting a compartment, dear friends?" Fred said after a second, evidently realizing that he'd missed something and that Albus wanted him to move this along. "Because it would be such a shame if we missed the train, and had to take a page out of Uncle Harry and Uncle Ron's book…"

"What?" I demanded.

"My dad flew a car to Hogwarts his second year, when he missed the train." Albus explained with a weak smile, and I nodded once, before Fred took off up the train stairs, barreling past me. I scowled.

"Shot a window seat." Fred called behind him, and Albus cursed, taking off after him. I blinked, then rolled my eyes. Cormac acted more mature than them. So exactly what was I doing sitting with them on the Hogwarts Express? Not sitting alone and avoiding general pathetic-ness.

Aim for the new school year: make new friends, so the next time Rosie ditched, I didn't have to sit with these idiots.

I followed them on, though, because it wasn't like I had anywhere else to sit or anyone else I liked enough to sit with. Fred and Al had turned left when they'd gotten up the stairs, so I followed along, spotting Al skidding into the fourth compartment down. I shook my head, brushing past the other kids in the hallway and following them into the compartment, though I stopped in the doorway to survey the scene in front of me.

Fred and Al had gone into a compartment with other kids in it—strictly speaking, Al's other friends. There were five boys in our year at Gryffindor—Al, Fred, and then Mikhail Palahntuk, Gavin Morton and Liam Fitzroy. Gavin and Liam were tolerable enough boys, though Liam and Rose had had a messy break up over the summer before she'd started dating Greg Landau, so it was a little awkward between them. And Mikhail—Mikey—was _my_ exboyfriend, a quiet, kind boy who I'd dated last year for a heartbeat before he'd dumped me in a sweet, albeit confusing way: I was under the impression he had a crush on Rose and only figured it out after we'd started dating. A little of a jackassy thing to do but he hadn't meant any harm, so I didn't hold it against him, though I didn't talk to him a lot anyway.

Silently, I crossed to the only empty seat left, folding my legs under me as I sank down, and Fred, who was sitting next to me, slung an arm around my shoulders. I glared at him. "Seriously? DIdn't we go over the no-arms-around-shoulders thing just one minute ago?" I demanded angrily.

"Molly dearest has to sit with us this year because my darling cousin is a prefect—"

"Rose is a prefect?" Liam demanded, choking on the words, and I smirked a little, nodding. "No—c'mon, are you _kidding_ me—" He lifted his robes, which he was already in, showing me the shiny badge pinned to one pocket. "I've been praying all summer that you were the prefect—"

"I appreciate the thought, but no dice." I said, shrugging a little.

"I can't be a stupid prefect with _Rose _of all people—"

"Eh, play nice." Al ordered, chucking a pen at Liam. Liam grabbed the pen out of the air and chucked it back at Albus.

"She's my ex, what'd you expect me to think of her?" Liam demanded, sounding outraged—Liam had a bit of a short temper, which kept him from being best friends with Al and Fred. I could list Al and Fred's unattractive traits in my sleep, but they weren't short-tempered. In fact, I wasn't sure I'd ever seen Al act genuinely angry—fleetingly mad, sure, but never irate. I'd kind of figured it was because his older brother—James Potter—was about as short-tempered as a three-headed dog. It was the same with Ellie and me; even as a seven-year-old, she was more emotional and extroverted than I'd ever been. "She treated me like shit—"

"Liam, shut up about Rose." I ordered, raising an eyebrow at Liam, and he glanced at me, and he held my gaze seriously, challenging me. I narrowed my eyes after a minute, and Liam looked away: I smirked. I could tolerate Liam. But he was being kind of a jerk today. And we weren't friends enough for me to put up with that. He sighed explosively, falling back in the seat angrily. "Aren't you supposed to be in the prefect car?" I asked, and Liam nodded sulkily. "Then perhaps you'd better go find your car, hmm?"

"I'm not surprised you don't understand what it's like to have a messy breakup." Liam said carefully, glaring at me. "As I recall, you've had exactly _one_ boyfriend who dumped you in a heartbeat as soon as he figure out how emotionless you are—"

"Hey," Mikey said quietly. "That's uncalled for."

"Of course you're defending her—"

"Fuck off, Liam." Al muttered. Liam glanced disbelievingly at Al, and then pushed himself to his feet, pushing out of the compartment. I swallowed, and avoided the gazes of Mikey and Al. "Molls, you alright?" Al asked me softly. Why couldn't he get it through his head—my name wasn't _Molls_. And he didn't have to treat me like a two year old.

"I'm fine." I said quietly, glancing up at him a flashing gaze, and he sighed shortly, glancing at the door.

"Liam's an idiot." Mikey said softly. "You know that. And what he said wasn't true." I fell silent, just switching my gaze to my lap before looking back up at the boys.

"Can we switch subjects?" I asked after a second, my voice hard. But I felt like a toddler. I hated this—I hadn't had a chance to argue with Liam, hadn't had a chance to win the argument. And if I was being completely honest with myself—he was right, at least a little: I had had exactly one boyfriend; he _had_ dumped me in a heartbeat; even now, with Al and Mikey trying to be nice, all I could do was push them away. I knew I was "hard to get to know"—the way that Rose had described me to Al in Madame Malkin's. I did distance myself from people intentionally, because I didn't like them or trust them.

But I had it that way for a reason.

I could rely on the people I kept around. Rose had passed every test, every roadblock I'd put around me—sometimes, just barely scraping by. She wasn't perfect. But she was loyal and brave and would stand up for me even if she knew she wouldn't get any credit for it. She was on the list of people I trusted—a list that was, in case you couldn't tell, really short. Just two people: my brother Nate and Rose. I'd literally known Nate for as long as I could remember—my first memory was his birth. If I didn't trust him then I'd be screwier than anything. Then Rose. That was _it_: two people, end of story. I didn't need anyone else. Especially not Albus Severus Potter. Even if he was trying his hardest, he didn't stand a chance. I kept too many secrets, played my cards too close to the vest, and I could be too mean. No one could get close to me.

Not even someone as insistent as Al.

* * *

"I _win_!" Albus said triumphantly, slamming down his hand of cards, and I squeaked unintentionally as the cards exploded into a flurry of sparks, and Al laughed, glancing at me, and I grinned back despite myself, feeling my cheeks flush a little. My eyes met his, and I felt my gaze almost glued there, before the cards exploded for real this time, and I snapped my eyes shut, leaning to my left a little, and Al slipped an arm around my shoulders, and for the briefest of moments, my head rested on his chest, before I realized. Everyone burst out laughing, a couple of people coughing a little because of the smoke, and I opened my eyes, and felt a wave of relief as I realized Al wasn't looking at me anymore.

"You cheated!" Fred cried accusatorily at Al. "No way _you_ beat me—"

"You're crap at exploding snap." Albus snapped at him, and I felt his eyes bore into my face, but I refused to meet his gaze.

"I am _not_—" Fred continued, but neither Albus nor I were paying attention.

"I hate to interrupt this scintillating conversation," A voice said from the entrance of the compartment, and everyone turned to look at Rory Corner, who was standing in the doorway, grinning and looking perfectly at ease. I exhaled shortly. "I've just come to take Molly for a moment if no one minds…" Rory said, and I raised my eyebrows.

"Come to take me for a moment?" I echoed. He flashed me a grin.

"I promised you a chocolate frog, remember?" He asked, and I blinked, then, remembering, I nodded. I dropped my own exploding snap cards on the table, and got up, crossing to him and smiling a little. I glanced back at Al, only to notice he was frowning at me. I straightened up, my gaze narrowing at Al.

Rory and I walked into the hallway, and Rory shut the compartment door behind me, flashing me a grin, and I smiled back. Rory had one of those grins meant to dazzle—pearly white teeth, all straight and in a row, his tanned skin and bright eyes making it more dazzling. "You're having a good ride, I take it?" Rory asked, still grinning. I shrugged a little. Rory began to lead the way down the hallway.

"It's going fine, but…Albus Potter and Fred Weasley and I aren't particularly friendly, so it's a little odd that I'm sitting alone with them." I admitted honestly as I followed Rory down the hallway.

"Rose mentioned something along those lines." Rory said, nodding a little. He glanced down at me, his gaze sombering, and I glanced up at him warily. "She also said something else—about Al and you…?" He said slowly. I raised my eyebrows. Surely Rory wasn't saying that Rose had implied that Albus and I were _together_? I was going to kill her dead—what the hell had she been thinking? I could barely tolerate Albus.

"Al and I are barely friends." I said, shaking my head once, but even as the words left my mouth, they felt odd, like I was lying. But I wasn't: I didn't _know_ Al. He was no where on my radar because I didn't want him there. "Rose is just being odd—Merlin only knows what she meant. I'm not friends with Al, and I'm certainly not dating him."

"Good." Rory said after a second, then he flushed, "I mean—not—you should, y'know, if you want to—but—" He paused. "I'm going to just shut up now, if that's okay." He mumbled, hanging his head, and I laughed quietly, looking up at him.

"I get what you mean." I said softly, cutting him some slack. I wasn't sure whether or not I liked Rory, at this point, but he was a sweet enough guy who looked good on paper, at least. And ten times less annoying then Al. "So you're tolerating Rose and Liam, hmm?" I asked, switching subjects for him.

"Legitimately, two more annoying prefects can't have been chosen." Rory said angrily. "Rose is just—_her_, you know—"

"You have a stunning grasp of the English language." I murmured.

"But Liam Fitzroy—if the kid wasn't dressed in red and gold I wouldn't believe he was _Gryffindor_—he just sits there and whines the entire time, first about how Al Potter apparently was being a jackass and then some crap about you." Rory muttered. I smirked felt my eyes narrow instinctively: I was going to tear Liam a new one if he was actually gossiping about me. "I'd punch him if I didn't think I'd get my badge taken away." I smirked, ducking my head: everyone who'd met Liam had pretty much the same opinion of him. He was just a hothead and got angry far too fast, but if he was calm for long enough, you could usually hold up a civil conversation with the kid.

"So you're pretty into the whole prefect thing?" I asked Rory, a little surprised at his words. I didn't know any prefects that would defend their badge—most prefects either pretended to be or actually were extremely embarrassed by it. He nodded, looking sheepish.

"My brother was pretty much an idiot his entire time at school." Rory said. "So I don't want to be him. And my dad really wanted into the idea of one of us being a prefect, it just sort of stuck on me, I guess." He glanced back at me as we slipped onto a new car, and we saw the old woman with the sweets cart. "How much for the chocolate frogs?" He asked her, smiling politely.

"Two knuts a piece, dear," Rory passed four knuts to the woman and grabbed two, and I glanced up at him.

"You didn't have to pay for me." I said carefully, pushing some of my hair out of my face.

"I wanted to." Rory said easily, and I raised my eyebrows. I didn't like people paying for me—I was psychotically independent like that. It wasn't even that I was super feminist and wanted to pay for myself because boys paying for myself demonstrated my inferiority or something ridiculous like that—I just didn't like to owe other people.

Rory pressed the chocolate frog into my hands and I opened the packet, tearing the metallic plastic and pulling out the card first: I didn't like chocolate frogs. I liked chocolate, but I couldn't stand to eat things that moved independently, one of the last vestiges of my muggle childhood left in my behavior. I glanced down at the card, than felt my face twitch into a smile almost accidentally: _The Potter Family_. Harry and Ginny Potter and their three children beamed out at me, waving happily while Al grinned his stupid grin, his green eyes brighter than anyone else's in the photograph. I shook my head, smiling bitterly: I couldn't get _away_ from the kid.

"I hate getting the evil ones." Rory said, rolling his eyes and holding up his card: Peter Pettigrew was standing nervously in the picture, looking out at me worriedly. "I especially hate this one—it's awful what he did to James's grandparents." I ducked my head in agreement, still studying my own card. "Which one did you get?" Rory asked, and I sighed, holding up my own card.

"The Potter family." I said with a smile. "I swear, I can't get away from the kid—I had to spend the last two weeks with him and now… we're at school." I shrugged. Rory raised his eyebrows a little, his smile dimming.

"You spend a lot of time together?" Rory asked, his voice sounding odd. I shrugged again, uncomfortable with where this was going. "I thought you weren't friends—"

"Corner, if I didn't know that we weren't dating so you had no right," I began carefully, "I'd say you sound jealous." I finished, raising an eyebrow in a challenge. Rory did sound jealous—despite the fact that I wasn't anything to him. Rory smiled uncomfortably.

"Rose told me you were blunt." Rory murmured after a moment, rubbing the back of his neck, and I narrowed my eyes at him. "I didn't imagine it'd be quite this blunt."

"You were actually scoping me out with my best friend." I murmured, tilting my head to the side: Rory's behavior was throwing me off my game. "An awful lot of trouble to go to for a girl you barely know."

"I'm hoping to get to know you better." Rory said with an easy smile.

"Everyone's been hoping that recently…" I said, and then rolled my shoulders. "Why doesn't anyone ever ask whether I want to get to know _them_?" I kept my voice quiet as two third years passed us: I didn't want the whole school talking about me. "My opinion counts for _something_, you know."

"Well?" Rory asked, stepping closer to me. I held my stance though this made me nervous—I had been standing too close to too many boys recently. Or, well, just to Rory and Al. But considering that I'd had exactly one boy ever be interested in me romantically, it wasn't like I walked around doing this all the time. Just the last few hours. "Would you like to get to know me better?"

"See, if I told you that, all the mystery of me would be gone." I said, the words coming to me almost magically (hardy-har, like magic, I was magical, _so funny_) but it sounded good, enough like I wanted to keep him at a distance but not just shove him away. As if to reinforce that point, I stepped closer, so we were standing chest-to-chest. I was acting like Rose would act—sort of sluttily. And I was not proud of it—but, in all honesty, I didn't have that many female role models. I was winging this whole "flirting" thing. And the only lessons I'd ever gotten were from my less-than-modest best friend. Besides, Rory was acceptable boyfriend material—and maybe just the suggestion of another guy in my life would make Albus lose interest, or at least consider it. "I would just be… regular. And what would be the fun in that?" I reached in my pocket and pulled out two knuts, the cost of my chocolate frog, and tucked them in the pocket of his robes, a smirk gracing my lips. "Hold onto those." I murmured. "I pay for myself." I tapped his chest lightly with my hand and then turned around, walking back towards the compartment I'd been in with Al and Fred and company. I slipped into the next train car, before realizing I still had my chocolate frog card in my hand. I looked down at it: everyone but Al had left the photo, but he was frowning up at me, looking sort of disappointed. I felt a surge of guilt somewhere in my stomach but I ignored it, and frowned back down at the photo before sighing shortly, and tucking it into my pocket.

I really was stuck with this kid.


	5. The Scene is Dead – Long Live the Scene

**A/N:** So this is up in a timely manner due to my confusing lack of homework this week, as well as the fact that I got a stomach bug on Friday. Which enabled me to order in curly fries. And due to my home's unending supply of diet coke, I was able to write. Anyway—diet coke + curly fries + carrie = writing; thus, I got to finish this in a timely manner. :D unfortunately, I did miss my friend's birthday, and I love her, and feel awful about it. so booface.

beware: depending on how this week goes (i.e. depending on how mental my family is feeling this Thanksgiving), I will either post _really _fast or not post till like… a week from Tuesday. Thanksgiving is a weird holiday for my family. My uncle passed away last year on thanksgiving and this year, we've got more issues to hash out, including my father's recent estrangement from _his _dad. So, this holiday will either be hellish or…just not occur, pretty much. So I'll see how it goes and get back to you ASAP.

happy reading!

* * *

The Scene is Dead – Long Live the Scene

"_You think you understand but you don't__  
__You've got no idea at all.__  
__And in between the sentence there's still a semblance,__  
__Intelligently screwed."_  
—Cobra Starship

"Molly Sienna Gale, I love you, but you need to _calm yourself_." Rose Weasley said severely to me as we sat in the back of one of the carriages, several hours later. The train to Hogwarts had gone without incident, save Fred getting caught selling canary creams, Ton-tongue toffees, and trick wands to the first years. Fred had actually set the new record: a detention given _before arrival to Hogwarts_. New low, Fred. New low.

We'd gotten to Hogwarts half an hour before, but Rose had insisted on finding me and she'd gotten stuck on the train. Fred had stashed some of his products in her trunk, and she'd had to talk her way out of getting her trunk searched, going off on some rant about how there would be hell to pay if someone violated her right to privacy. She'd been making it up as she went. Rose and I had caught the last carriage, since Al had gotten in a carriage with Fred and Liam, in his effort to mollify Liam's general frustration with me. This was good news: Al and I were out of the same fifty square feet for the first time in eight hours. I was practically glowing.

"Cormac can't swim, _excuse_ me for being nervous that he's only got some creaky boat holding him up in water." I muttered, glancing out at the dark lake nervously. There was a cluster of lanterns only a fifth of the way across the lake, and I chewed on my lip for a second, watching them, and then looked back at Rose unhappily.

"What kind of eleven-year-old can't swim?" Rose demanded. I exhaled shortly, flicking a glare at her. Cory had almost drowned when he was a kid—he'd been three and we'd been at the beach and he'd toddled in. My dad had gone and gotten him and saved him, but the kid still lived in mortal fear of water. Nate had literally spent the last four summers trying to break him of it, but he was terrified and when Cory got scared he got mad, so we just let him be.

"The kind that's related to me—by the way, don't think you're off the hook for the whole, hinting-to-Rory-I'm-with-Al thing." I muttered, turning to face Rose with a frown. "I didn't miss that. Rory told me on the train that you'd implied that Al and me were together or something—"

"Okay, back yourself up there, Miss Stress." Rose said irritatedly: she hated being caught doing stuff like this. But it was just so _Rose_ to talk to Rory about how she thought Al and I should be together or something like that. She loved to meddle. "First off, Rory was mentioning to that Ravenclaw prefect our year, Connie Esposito, about how he thought you were looking different this year and Liam jumped in with some BS about how Al was being weirdly protective of you and _I_ told them that he _had_ been hitting on you for the last week and a half and Rory looked kind of bugged at that so I decided to _do you a favor_," Rose said emphatically, her voice fast as she built up her defense, and I rolled my eyes: I was not buying this, even for a second, "and push the fact that I thought Al was going to ask you out. Which made Rory jealous. So, you're welcome."

"Rose Weasley, you could not _be_ more arrogant, for the love of God—did you just say 'you're welcome' to me? Come _on_—" I said, glaring.

"Well, Rory went and bought you a chocolate frog, didn't he?" She demanded, raising her eyebrows, her voice revealing how smug she felt. Rose was always right. Even when she was wrong, she was right. It bugged me up the wall, but I let it slide with Rose because we were best friends. "And you know him—he's sixth year, all up on his high horse for being a prefect—he would have been awkwardly nice to you for months before he made a move—"

"Merlin, is it like your disease that you have to meddle in my business?" I demanded angrily.

"I don't meddle—"

"Oh my God, you're like, Queen of meddlers." I scoffed, frowning at her. "Besides, I don't like chocolate frogs—"

"I still don't understand that—" Rose said as if _that_ were the problem at hand, here.

"Not the point, c'mon." I muttered irritatedly.

"A dislike of chocolate is always the point." Rose said firmly; I exhaled shortly. She grinned at me and I rolled my eyes, sinking back in my seat. Rose won, yet again. This was Rose's prime arguing tactic, and it worked _every _time: she'd distracted me from the point of the argument. I couldn't win an argument that no one else was participating in.

"You are legitimately the biggest _brat_ I've ever _met_." I muttered after a second.

"If you meant that, you would have stopped being my best friend a very long time ago." Rose scoffed, and I rolled my eyes, but smirked. Rose and I were ridiculous. But we were best friends. Even if she annoyed the living bajeezus out of me. "Back to what's important: Rory _likes_ you." She said with a grin, shoving my shoulder suddenly.

"That's all well and good, but I don't like him." I told Rose, my irritation evident in my voice. I shifted uncomfortably in my robes: I hated wearing the school robes. And I was thoroughly displeased with the turn this conversation had taken.

"Why in the name of Godric Gryffindor _not_?" Rose demanded exasperatedly, turning to me. I raised my eyebrows, glancing at her. She was very much

"Because I'm just—" I shook my head, then sighed. "I just don't like him." I said honestly.

"He's so freaking _pretty_ though…" Rose said accusatorily, as if I were doing something wrong by not using that as my only excuse for liking him. I laughed quietly. "Seriously, though, Molly—Rory's adorable, a prefect, he'll be head boy next year… Not to mention his OWL record. I'm pretty sure even _my_ parents would approve." Rose's parents hated her boyfriends, or at least, they hated the two she'd introduced. Her dad just protective and her mom thought her daughter was better than then her boyfriends.

"He is." I acknowledged. Rose studied me for a moment, frowning a little.

"So you acknowledge he's cute," Rose held up one finger, "And smart," she held up a second finger, "and nice." Rose held up a third finger, raising her eyebrows. "If he meets your near-impossible criteria, then why don't you like him?" Rose asked incredulously. "He is probably the only kid to pass every single test with flying colors. What are you doing not hooking up with him?"

"I don't like him, Rosie. Nice boy. But I don't like him."

"But—" The carriage jolted to a stop, and I fell forward, my head hitting the wall separating the front of the carriage and the seats. My nose caught most of the blow, and when I reeled backwards, a little dazed, I felt something warm on my face: nosebleed. I winced, blinking rapidly as I tried to swipe at my face, and my hand came away bloody. Gross.

Great. First, I'd had to ride with Fred and Albus all the way here and now I'd probably broken my nose because these stupid thestrals couldn't keep steady— worst first day of school. Ever. "Oh, my God, you're bleeding—" Rose said in panicked voice: Rose hated blood. She'd been known to faint before, because someone was bleeding.

"Rose, Merlin, it's just a nosebleed—" I muttered irritatedly, but Rose still was turning pale as she gaped at me. I rolled my eyes.

"Ew, ew, ew, ew—" Rose said helpfully, and I glared at her even as I held the sleeve of my robes to my nose. Rose stared at me, petrified, for another moment before she dove for the door, scrambling at the latch and opening it. She leapt out, and I scoffed, before following her carefully, holding onto the door as I stepped down.

Rose had skittered away, and was hyperventilating beside the boys, who were at the back of the crowd who were waiting to walk the last little bit to Hogwarts, the same way we always did. You had to go through the gates, first, though, because every year since the Wizarding Wars, they performed a malicious intent detection spell on our trunks.

Fred was frowning down at Rose with the same expression that I often wore when looking at Rose—that expression that said what-the-hell-are-you-talking-about. It was hard to be a sane person and not look at Rose that way for about half the things she said. She was hanging onto his arm and Fred looked back at the carriage before raising his eyebrows and reaching out to tap Al's shoulder as I walked up, holding my sleeve firmly to my nose. Rose jumped about a foot in the air when she looked back at me and then scrambled away, ducking in front of Liam and Gavin, both of whom ignored her.

"Molly, how—" Al demanded, frowning a little at me as he turned to me. "We've been here for like ten seconds—"

"Shuddup." I said in a nasal voice.

"Let me fix it." Al said easily, reaching inside his robes for his wand, and I felt blood flowing down the back of my throat—okay, this was getting a little too gross for even me.

"Doe." I said stubbornly—some of the effect of my negative response was lost in the fact that I couldn't say 'n's. God, did I hate this. If it'd been anyone else at this stupid school trying to heal my nose, I'd have been fine with it. But not Albus.

"Doe?" Al demanded, raising his eyebrows and grinning. He glanced at Fred, who grinned back at him, but with a slightly different glint in his eye, as if he saw right through Albus. Al looked back down at me. "C'mon, Molly. I'm aces at charms. It won't even hurt a bit." Al said, still grinning at me, and I glared at him, then winced in pain. It actually hurt to glare now. Maybe I did need to get this fixed. My wince didn't go unnoticed, though: Al frowned at me. "Okay, you're obviously in pain—lemme fix your face." I shook my head. "Molly."

"Albus." I said mockingly, enunciating carefully.

"Molly, let me help you." Al said, watching me carefully, and in the background, I heard Fred scoff, glancing over at us. "Fred, _bugger off_—" He hissed at his best friend, turning back to me. "It's not a big deal—I can do it."

"My liddle brutter would be bedder ad fixing by dose den you." I said, avoiding Al's gaze: if I couldn't glare at him, I didn't know how I was supposed to look at him. "Ad ged a liddle bore arrogant, please."

"If I could take you seriously right now," Al said, his smile returning as I glanced up at him. "I would be offended." I rolled my eyes, and then winced: that hurt too. Al lifted his wand level with my face when I winced, and I grabbed his wand in the middle, making sure his thumb was poised in a way where I could snap his wand.

"I will snap this if you get any closer." I said sharply, dropping my sleeve from my nose and letting the blood flow freely now. I could talk like a normal person, now, but I just had blood flowing down my face and onto my robes. But if Albus got the message, now, where was the harm in that?

We stood like that for a solid two minutes, my hand on his wand and his eyes trained on me. "I don't believe you'd do something as malicious as that." Al said finally, his voice serious. I swallowed. Albus didn't think I had it in me to be malicious.

"I think you have too much faith in me." I murmured after a second, honestly.

"I think you don't have enough faith in you." Albus retorted, tilting his head to the side as he stepped closer to me: I couldn't step back without being awkward, because I couldn't let go of his wand. Why did Al keep doing this—stepping so close to me, so close that we were chest-to-chest, or nearly that? I just wanted him to leave me the bloody hell alone. And now he was standing here, this close to me. Idiot. "And I don't think that you have faith in anyone to be there for you. Not even Rose."

"She's my best friend. Of course I trust her to be there for me." I refuted quietly, keeping my voice low as my eyebrows drew together a little: I wasn't comfortable with where this was going. I wasn't going to have this argument, here, on the first night at Hogwarts, where teachers and other students might be listening.

"I don't think you trust anyone." Albus said quietly. "And I think you trust me about as much as I'd trust a hippogriff." I exhaled shortly at this comparison. "Sometimes, I assume you're just being weird about me but this is just stupid, Molly. You are literally covered in blood. Your blood. I'm willing to _heal_ you—that's all I want do. Heal you. So. Where. Is. The. Harm." Albus said slowly, as if he thought I was daft, and I wondered at my chances of being able to just smack him. My hands had blood on them, though.

"Miss Gale!" Professor Longbottom said, startled. Al and I started, looking at him, startled. Then we realized, at the exact same time, that everyone around us had gone. Al and I were the only ones left. I felt my face flush, but it was probably impossible to tell: I was covered in blood. "Holy—what happened to you?"

"I banged my head in the carriage," I muttered to my teacher. "It's just a nosebleed."

"Miss Gale, you broke your nose." Longbottom said firmly to me. "That's far too much blood to be anything else." He glanced up at Al and then back at me, and then to the wand. "If you got hurt in the carriage, exactly why are you about to snap Mr. Potter's wand?" Professor Longbottom continued, raising his eyebrows as he looked from Al and I and then back again.

"I'm trying to help her." Albus murmured, but he dropped his wand. I glanced back at him: he was watching me seriously.

"I didn't want him to perform the cure spell." I said after a beat, my voice steely, but I knew I sounded like a toddler. There was no logical reason for Albus not to perform the spell. But Al was… Albus Potter. I couldn't just let Al help me—I couldn't let him get closer to me.

"Forgive me if I'm wrong, but Albus got an E last year in Charms." Professor Longbottom said, frowning a little. "You're not wrong to be careful, Molly, but I've seen Albus heal his sister and cousins before—he's pretty good." I shook my head stubbornly. I couldn't argue this with Longbottom, he was a teacher. An adult. And I didn't trust him. Not even a little. "Okay, well, if you're not going to allow him to do that," He said quietly. "I'm going to ask that you let Albus take you to Madame Pomfrey, then." Professor Longbottom was keeping his voice gentle.

"I'll go alone." I said stubbornly. "I'm fine, it's just a nosebleed."

"Yes, but you happened to be covered in blood and it's making me nervous, so someone has to take you to the hospital wing." Longbottom said, frowning at me. "And I have to oversee the sorting ceremony so—" I felt my eyes open wider as I straightened up. I had to see Cory sorted. And the only way that I was going to see him sorted was if I got my nose fixed. Fast.

Ugh.

"Fine." I said irritatedly, shooting Albus a loathing look, but he was grinning triumphantly at me. He'd won.

"Good." Professor Longbottom said after a second, seemingly surprised that that was all it'd taken to convince me. I wiped at my face again with my sleeve, and Al glanced up at Longbottom for a moment before looking back down at me, his eyebrows raised. That was one thing that bugged me about Albus: you could always read his emotions right on his face. That bugged me. And made me feel guilty everytime I shot him down.

"D'you think you could try to stall the sorting ceremony, Uncle Neville?" Al asked after a second, looking up at Professor Longbottom. I blinked, my scowl dropping from my features. What was Albus on about _now_?

Professor Longbottom seemed to be thinking along the same lines as I was, because he pulled a face. "Why in the name of Merlin would I try to _stall_ the sorting ceremony—d'you have any idea how _long_ it takes the first years to get into the castle—those kids take like one step every hour—"

"Or just make sure that Molly and I are back before Cormac Gale is called?" Albus demanded, spinning around to look at Professor Longbottom worriedly. I swallowed, feeling uneasy, suddenly: Al was trying to make sure I got whatever I wanted. Including seeing my baby brother sorted.

"I will not _stall_ the sorting ceremony—" Professor Longbottom said indignantly. He paused, then. "But if you hurry it shouldn't be a problem—the kids are still on the lake."

"Thanks." I said quietly to my head of house, glancing at Al, who was grinning again, still looking as smug as ever. "Ugh. Stop looking so self-satisfied." I muttered to him, pushing past him, and Al followed me, coming up beside me and putting his arm around my shoulders. I exhaled shortly: here we went again. Al cared too much, Al pushed too far. I didn't want to date him. I didn't even want to like him as a friend. I just wanted him to _go away_. "You're so bad at picking up on signals, you know that, right?" I demanded, glancing up at him, trying to convey as much hatred as I could without moving my face: my nose was really starting to hurt.

"Excuse me, I consider myself extremely perceptive." Albus said, as if affronted, but he was still grinning. "Like back there—I knew you wanted to see Cory sorted." Albus said knowingly, and I rolled my eyes but continued up the path to Hogwarts. Al's arm dropped from around my shoulders as he had to speed up too. He easily kept pace though—Al was tall, with longer legs than I had.

"He's my little brother, it doesn't take a genius to conclude that I'm kind of interested in what house he ends up in." I muttered.

"Yeah, but you're kind of mental about Cory." Al said, and I stopped in my tracks. It took him until he was two steps ahead of me to stop too, and he wheeled around, his eyes on me.

"Mental?" I asked in a lethal voice.

"I mean that in the most flattering way possible." Albus said earnestly, but I saw a spark in his eyes—stupid arsehole was making a joke. Here's a funny joke: what if I _smacked_ him?

I paused and then pushed past him, making sure to not meet his gaze as I passed him again. Al sighed, running a hand through his hair before following me again and re-engaging. "Seriously, Molly, I didn't mean it that way—you're just protective of him. It's not weird, I'm the same way with Lily. It's just striking because you're one of five, like you said, so I think it'd be kind of excusable if you'd lost your taste for being that protective of _four _people." Albus paused to take a breath, glancing down at my face and trying to read m. "And Cory doesn't cause trouble." He continued. "He's not like Lily—he doesn't get stupid. He's a pretty smart, extremely nice kid. He doesn't need protecting—and still you protect him."

"That's how being a big sister works." I said, flicking him an irritated look. I didn't like this. I hated these conversations, and moreover, I hated the way that every single conversation with Albus I had resulted in me revealing some deep thing about the way my brain was wired. Every conversation led to him having more insight into me—and it made me uncomfortable. "It doesn't matter than I've got three little brothers and one sister rather than just one or two—they're all important and they all need protecting." I said truthfully as we entered the castle, slipping in the open double doors.

"Molly, what the—" Albus said after a beat, grabbing my arm to stop me, looking down at me worriedly. "You realize what you sound like, right?" He demanded, and I heard the genuine concern in his voice, saw the real anxiety in his eyes. I hated this. Every conversation, every time. Albus just needed to bugger off. "You sound like your parents aren't—acting—parentally." Albus said, sounding uncomfortable with making this accusation again as he dropped his hand from my arm. I flushed, moving my hand from my face: my nosebleed had begun to taper off. And Albus was making me mad, now.

"I've told you this one hundred thousand times," I said slowly, keeping my voice steely and speaking under my breath so that he'd get the message that this wasn't for public consumption, "but I'll say it again: my parents love and take care of my brothers and sister. They sign their permission slips, they make sure they're fed, and they go to as many football games," I saw Al's eyebrows draw together at the mention of football, "and school plays as they can. They are good parents by every standard I can measure them by." I sighed shortly, feeling desperate. "Why don't you believe me?" I asked after a beat, looking up at Albus seriously.

"Because every single thing you do, every single thing you say—it contradicts what you're saying." Albus murmured. "Molls—you showed up with bruises, from your dad, in tears for the first time in the five years that I've known you. Now you're telling me you're responsible for every one of your siblings—none of it's a direct accusation or else my dad would have arrested him but—" Albus shook his head, "Merlin's Beard, Molly—all anyone wants to do is help you." He murmured. "Why won't you let us?"

I blinked up at him, processing what he was saying before I pulled away from him, walking towards the infirmary. After a moment, Albus jogged to catch up with me. "I'm sorry." He said softly. I didn't say anything as we stormed down another hallway, the one that led right to the infirmary. "Molly, I'm sorry, that wasn't fair of me to say—"

"Fuck off." I murmured to him as I turned and pushed open the doors to the infirmary.

"How do I already have students coming to see me?" Madame Pomfrey demanded as she sorted through things in a box on her cart: she was standing in front of it, seemingly organizing it. Neither al nor I said anything, and she looked up from a cart of gauze, then raised her eyebrows. "Quite a bit of blood there, Miss Gale." She noted, putting down her gauze in one of the trays and then brushing off her hands.

"I might have broken my nose." I told her irritatedly, and she frowned at me.

"Miss Gale—my stars, come here." She said, shaking her head as if I were a lost cause. I came forward and she pulled her wand out of her apron, before grabbing a firm hold of my chin, and turning my face from side to side. "You have definitely broken this—what happened?"

"I banged it in the carriage—the thestrals stopped short." I admitted. Madame Pomfrey tutted at me.

"Alright, well, this will sting a bit—" She told me, flicking her wand lightly towards my face, although her wand was about a foot away. Purple light leapt from her wand to my face, and I squeezed my eyes shut. A grating, painful feeling shot through my face as my nose righted itself, and I squeezed my hands shut, tears stinging my eyes. I winced at the last jolt of pain, reaching out instinctively for something to squeeze like the railing at the end of the bed, and Al grabbed my hand, squeezing it lightly. Madame Pomfrey finished fixing my nose and I opened my eyes, snatching my hand back from Al and swiping at the tears streaming from my eyes. Madame Pomfrey flicked her wand at me again and the blood disappeared, my clothing looking, suddenly, clean as a whistle.

"Good as new." She said to me. I nodded at her, glancing sideways at Albus and then back to Madame Pomfrey.

"Can I go? My brother's being sorted—"

"Go, go—" She said, waving her hand dismissively at me. I spun on my heel, walking quickly through the double doors, trying to ditch Albus, but I ignored him.

"Please just—leave me alone." I hissed at him, pulling my hair back out of my face and into a messy bun, a few of the strands falling around my face. I wrapped my hair tie around the bun, still moving forward.

"Molly—"

"Albus Severus Potter," I hissed, turning to him angrily. "I don't care what you think about my homelife. It. Doesn't. Matter. You aren't an adult, you aren't an officer of the law, you can't fix my parents or my siblings, and you certainly can't fix me." My words came fast and furious, and Albus looked startled at first, but by my last words he looked incredibly depressed. I almost didn't continue, but when I did, it was with as much ferocity as had been in my first statement. "So bugger off or I'm going to start getting _really_ annoyed and if you think our disagreements thus far have been bad, well, you've seen nothing yet." I said fiercely. "Stay away from me."

I took a few deep breaths as I stood there with Albus before I pulled away. I didn't run from Albus—I didn't _run_ from _anyone_—but I walked as fast as I could towards the great hall. Albus sighed behind me, loud enough that I could hear him as I turned the corner at the end of the hallway. He followed me, though, because we had to go to the Sorting Ceremony, and there was only one way to the Great Hall from the Infirmary. I kept my gaze down. I wasn't going to speak to Albus if it killed me—he was too good at getting under my skin, seeing through me. I didn't want to give him more chances than absolutely necessary.

We got to the Great Hall and down the hallway between the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables, trying to keep our heads down and not disturb the peace. Even though a little first year was getting sorted as we slipped into seats between Fred and Liam and across from Rose and Mikey.

"We're taking bets on Cory—" Fred whispered to me under his breath. "I have a galleon on him being Slytherin—"

"Shut your mouth—" I murmured, smacking his arm as I glared at him. "My brother isn't one of those scum—"

"Rose bet Hufflepuff, Liam bet Ravenclaw—" Fred continued to rattle off.

"You know you're in the wrong when Liam's being kinder than you are—" I muttered.

"I bet Gryffindor." Albus murmured, shoving a sickle onto the table, and Fred moved it to the center. I glanced up at Albus, before looking down at the table, and in the edge of my vision, I saw Rose elbow Albus and glare at him. Albus glared back at her unabashedly, and I glanced up at the first years, eying them. I could see the back of Cory's head—he was taller than most of the other boys. Cory and Nate had that in common, then: Nate was already taller than me.

"Who's up now?" I asked softly.

"Felicia Frakas—"

"_Slytherin_!" The sorting hat screeched. Felicia Frakas jumped to her feet and sprinted towards the clapping Slytherin table, where she got a high-five from one of the older girls, probably her sister. I glanced at the front of the hall again.

"Cormac Finley Gale." Professor Longbottom announced, reading the name off the piece of parchment then glancing up at the Gryffindor table. Al raised a hand, sitting up straighter, and Longbottom nodded to him: he'd been checking that Albus and I had made it back in time for Cory.

My little brother edged up to the stool, taking the hat and sitting on the stool before putting it on: it fell over his eyes. Poor Cory. He grabbed both sides of the stool with his hands: he was pretty freaked. When I'd been sorted, it'd been a nightmare. I hadn't known anyone properly, my parents were pissed off at me because I was magical and this was new to me—I'd almost cried when it told me what house I was in. It'd gotten better though. Hogwarts was basically my home now.

"_Gryffindor_!" It hollered, and I exhaled heavily, and then I let myself smile a little as the table cheered for him. He grinned nervously at me as he darted off the dais and rushed to a seat at the table, next to another first year that'd just been sorted. I grinned at him briefly, before glancing around at my friends: Rose grinned at me and Fred clapped me on the back. And then he pulled something out of his wand—_Weasley's Wildfire Whizbangs_. Oh, crap. They were like muggle fireworks, but, for lack of a better word, trippier—the things refused to vanish and would create one shape here and another there. And Fred was an idiot and a half for this.

"Frederick Weasley!" I hissed, my voice a little louder than I intended: somehow it was only my friends and I causing the scene. People were staring at us. "Do—not—"

"What's he doing?" Rose said, looking interestedly over at us.

"No—Fred—" I whispered angrily, reaching forward to grab the firework, but he pushed me back, grinning all the way, and Albus chuckled too, but I was just about to kill Fred. He stood it on the ground and tapped it with his wand.

Boom.

Fred and I flew back a few feet on the bench as the Whizbang exploded and shot into the air, drawing a curling lion in the air. I punched Fred's back and he cackled as the lion roared: the whole table broke into applause, but I just shoved Fred over on the bench.

"I should kill you." I hissed at him.

"I'd like to see you try." Fred scoffed, watching his handiwork above our heads. God, was Fred Weasley a brat. And, just my luck, Al and he seemed to have taken some sort of interest in my this year. Great.

Or, rather, heaven help me.

* * *

"I can't believe he's back at it." I noted lazily as Rose, Al, Fred and I sat around the fire that night. Rose, Al and I were watching Fred sell his "products" to the first years from the comfort of an armchair. This time, Cormac was really buying the products. Trick wands and Peruvian darkness powder, to be specific. And I'd have worried that Cory would get caught and get marked down as a trouble maker too early on in his Hogwarts career, but Rose and Liam weren't real prefects, in that I was pretty sure that neither of them would be assigning any detentions, especially to my little brother.

"I'm surprised you're not stopping Cory from buying them." Rose noted.

"If I stop him he's just going to buy them from his friends and they'll be more expensive—" I acknowledged. "By the way, any guesses on where this money's coming from?" I asked, frowning and glancing at Rose. "Because I'm certainly not funding this."

"My mum set up a monthly allowance for you two, I think she gave him his portion this morning before we all got on the train—" Rose said tiredly, and I blinked, straightening up in my seat and looking at Rose seriously.

"She did?" I asked.

"Mm-hmm." Rose said disinterestedly. Al glanced at me, then looked back at Rose, clearing his throat a little. Rose glanced up at him and he glanced at me, her eyes following his gaze to me. "Oh, wait—don't make a big deal out of it, Molls." I winced at the nickname, and Albus raised his eyebrows as her use of it. "It barely matters—and Mum and Dad are pleased enough to do it."

"Cory's going to think that's weird." I said softly.

"Why?" Rose asked. "My parents are your two legal guardians—they're responsible and stuff for you."

"Cormac doesn't know that Mr. Potter removed us from Mum and Dad's custody." I admitted quietly, looking at Rose tiredly.

"Okay, scratch that, it might matter if he doesn't know that." Rose said after a beat, frowning at me. "Molly, what were you thinking—It's not like something you can hide forever—"

"I love Cormac to pieces but he's freaking eleven-years-old, Rose, and he'd give himself a panic attack with the idea that…" I exhaled, my stomach tightening at the words I was about to say. "That we might not get to go home again." I glanced away from Rose, looking up at Albus. _We might not get to go home again_.

"Are you alright?" Al asked after a beat, his voice uncharacteristically serious. I looked at him for a moment with my exhausted gaze, before nodding once.

"Fine." I murmured.

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

* * *

_Nate—_

_Cory and I made it to school today… Finally. Sorry about not writing sooner—I was a little busy with my friends and getting all of my things together for school. I had to track down a shopping list for Cory, too—Dad was kind of pain in the arse, tearing up that list. Also not to nag, but make sure the kids are okay for school, alright? Mum's supposed to take them school shopping but I just want you to double check._

_How'd dad cool down? Have you had a chance to talk to him yet? Has he said anything? I'm just curious—I think Cormac wants to go home for break, and I want to know if I'd be able to just stop by and say hi to Cal and Ellie?_

_So you know, though I doubt it would matter to you: Cory's in Gryffindor with me. Remember, my school has houses? Cory and I are in the one that has a lion as its symbol. The colors are red and orange—so I sent along with the letter two scarves for you and Cal and a hat for Ellie. The hat has little lion ears on it—it's really cute. So send me a picture of her in it, mkay? I left most of my family photos at home since we left in under a minute. So you have to send me more lest I forget what you losers look like._

_I miss you all heaps,_

_Molly_


	6. Raise it Up Rabbit Heart

Rabbit Heart (Raise it Up)

_This is a gift, it comes with a price_  
_Who is the lamb and who is the knife?_  
_Midas is king and he holds me so tight_  
_And turns me to gold in the sunlight._  
_—Florence and the Machine_

Five. Binns' mouth was moving but I couldn't hear a thing—that's how bored I was. I was going deaf with boredom. Four. I felt like there was a muggle cartoon in which the teacher did that—his or her mouth moved but the students didn't care enough to understand. Three. Could this class get more boring? Two. What would happen if I _reducto'd_ the chalkboard? It would explode, but would that be enough to make me pay attention? One.

The bell rang and I pushed myself to my feet in a heartbeat, grabbing my books and pushing myself to my feet. History of Magic killed me—it was that boring. Binns was an awful teacher. And Rose wasn't in class with me—neither were Al and Fred, who were at least something to glare at, even if not friends to sit with.

It'd been a few days since school had started and it already boring. At least it was Friday, though—our first weekend at school. I'd sent Nate a letter on our first day, but considering the short amount of time that had passed, it wasn't surprising that no word back had come yet. Also, Nate was notoriously slow at getting back to my letters, despite the fact that it gave me a heart attack each and every time.

I emerged from the classroom, the first one out, and Rory Corner was standing there, waiting for me. I blinked, raising my eyebrows. We hadn't talked since the train, and while I'd assumed he'd lost interest for the first day, Rose had then reported to me that Sera had told her that Rory had asked James about me. So apparently he was still interested. He was just covering all his bases first.

It actually made me nervous that he was trying this hard: I didn't like him. Or at least, I didn't think I did. And I wasn't just going to date him for the hell of it—I'd seen Rose screw up enough boys to know how to treat a boy well. But he was persistent. And too nice. I'd have a hard time rejecting him outright if it came to that.

"Molly!" He said with a grin, and I raised my eyebrows at him, hoisting my books farther up on my hip. Behind me, three Ravenclaw girls emerged from the classroom, giggling as they passed Rory and I with a glance back at us. I sighed tiredly, blowing some of my hair out of my face as I shot them a lethal look, then looked back to Rory. "Let me walk you back to the common room?" He offered. I shrugged a little, but fell into step beside him, and he seemed to accept that that was as close as he was going to be getting to a positive answer. "So you just had History of Magic?" He asked, looking down at me and slinging an arm around my shoulders. I sighed shortly.

"Unfortunately." I murmured. "Binns couldn't be more boring if he was trying—" I rolled my eyes. "And none of my friends are even in that class."

"I've got the same thing going on in Muggle Studies—the problem is, I really like the subject, but it's just screwy sometimes, so it's hard to make sense of—muggles spend an awful lot of money on making their cars go, did you know that?" He asked, and I couldn't resist the small smile on my lips: this was such a novelty to him. "The purchase this thing called fuel and it's really expensive—"

"I know—" I said, glancing up at Rory as I interrupted him, realizing suddenly that he should have remember that my parents were muggles—I thought I'd told him on the train. "I'm muggleborn, remember?"

"Oh, yeah—" He said, grinning sheepishly. "Sorry about that." He paused, looking down at me, and I raised my eyebrows, looking back up at him. "So surprisingly enough, I didn't meet you at the end of your last class to ask your opinion on fuel prices." He said, and I laughed shortly, ducking my head a little.

"I'm shocked." I said, smirking.

"I'm sure, I'm sure." Rory said easily. "No, but actually I was hoping that next week you'd let me take you to Hogsmeade." I stopped in the middle of the hallway, and Rory spun to face me, smiling kind of crookedly down at me, even as he made sure we were standing close. Rory Corner wanted to take me to Hogsmeade—that was somewhere that boyfriends took girlfriends. Rory was asking me on a date. I gave myself a beat to think—did I want to go out with Rory? This had seemed so much easier a moment ago, when I'd only considered having to make the choice, rather than actually having to.

Yes, was the immediate answer that came to mind. And then Albus's face flicked through my brain. Something occurred to me: as despicable as this sounded, dating Rory would be a great way to get Albus to piss off. If there was one way to send a sure-fire please-go-away-now message, it was by dating someone else. And the fact of it was, I liked Rory a little. Not enough to date. Not as much as I'd liked Mikey last year.

But I liked him a little. Maybe? I wasn't sure. Did that mean I should say yes and give him a shot? Rose and Albus had been on my case about not being willing enough to trust people. Rose must have given me a hundred speeches on giving people more of a chance to get close to me. Rory was a person. He counted in the group of people I should give a chance to. Besides, Rory looked good on paper. He looked like the freaking messiah on paper—the most OWLs in his year. If anyone had ever deserved a chance, it was Rory Corner.

"Were you?" I asked after a moment, searching his face. He nodded, still grinning crookedly. "Well I hate to disappoint." I said, tilting my head to the side a little. I shrugged a little, then passed him. I smirked a little, ducking my head to hide it.

"That wasn't an answer," Rory said, catching up to me, but I heard the smile in his voice. I glanced up at him, still smirking a little, and he rolled his eyes, but he still looked pretty happy. "So you're coming with me, I take it." Rory asked after following me down another hallway. We started up the stairs to Gryffindor common room, and in front of the portrait of the fat lady, I turned to Rory. I stood on tiptoe, brushing my lips against his for a half a second before pulling back.

"D'you think?" I asked with gentle sarcasm, before glancing up at the portrait of the Fat Lady. "Aurora Borealis." I murmured, and the Fat Lady cooed down at us, beaming.

"You're such an adorable couple—it's just too much." The Fat Lady said fondly to us, and I blushed. "You know, when I was younger—I was _quite_ the girl about town." She said, fanning herself while she flushed. "You'd never believe—the son of the _knight_ who—"

"Aurora Borealis." Rory said quietly, and the Fat Lady huffed something about ungrateful students but let the portrait open. I stepped inside the portrait hole ahead of him, hoisting my books up on my hip. I walked towards where Rose was sitting in one of the armchairs, Fred in the other: the couch across from them was occupied by Al's brother James, the sixth year Edie Bones, and Sera Finnigan. Rory came up beside us, putting an arm around my shoulders, and I glanced up at him warningly: he missed it, though, because he was glancing at James with a grin.

I met Rose's gaze and she grinned at me, straightening up when she saw Rory's arm around my shoulders, but remained silent. Fred Weasley, on the other hand, seemed unable to keep his silence. "Oooh, is Rory making moves on our Miss Molly…" Fred asked with a grin. There was something in his smile, though, that made me think he wasn't as happy as he looked.

"Hush." Rose ordered, grinning at us, and I sighed internally. Rose was going to give me no end of grief for this. I didn't even want Rory's arm around my shoulders. I wasn't into public displays of affection. I mean, having someone's arm around your shoulders wasn't exactly a declaration of love. But in terms of how many people I allowed to do this (one, now, since I hadn't exactly shoved Rory like I had Al and Fred), this was pretty significant for me.

"But Rosie Posie, this is our Molly…" Fred protested. "We must protect and defend from—" I slipped away from Rory, walked behind Fred's chair, smacked his head with my copy of _History of Magic_, ("Ow!") and then I dropped my books on the little side table between Fred and Rose, before walking around Rose's chair to sit on it. "You could have just told me to shut up." Fred sighed dramatically.

"That's just not as effective as smacking you with a book." I noted distractedly, looking around the room: I was surprised that Albus wasn't with his brother, best friend, and cousin. Fred glanced back at me while Rory crossed to James, starting a conversation that was just a little too quiet to participate in.

"Professor Gumble wanted to talk to Al after class." Fred said after a second. I nodded noncommittally, suddenly embarrassed that I'd been looking for him.

"What happened with you and Rory?" Rose said under her breath to me, grinning elatedly. Fred Weasley raised his eyebrows in amusement. "Did you two hook up?" I rolled my eyes, and Fred chuckled: Rose certainly wasted no time. I considered what I'd tell her (if anything), before sighing, glancing over at her.

"I don't kiss and tell." I said finally after a moment, keeping my voice low, trying to make sure that Fred didn't hear. Fred didn't react, but Rose squealed, wrapping her arms around me and hugging me tightly, pulling me down on the chair with her, and I yelped, smacking her arm.

"You kissed him—yes, yes, yes, yes, yes—I _told_ you—" Rose said with a grin, and I shushed her, blushing as Rory chuckled, looking over at us. I closed my eyes in embarrassment, glaring at Rose scathingly, and a girl in sixth year called Rory over; he got up, crossing the room, and I wanted to die of embarrassment. Rose Weasley was a dead girl.

"Shut up, Rose—" I whispered heatedly.

"No! You're going to get a respectable boyfriend finally—"

"Me? _I'm _the one who needs a respectable boyfriend?"

"Yes!"

"I will strangle you—"

"You kissed Rory—I'm so _proud_ of you!" She squealed, and I smacked her arm, before putting a hand over her mouth, glaring angrily at her. James chuckled from his spot on the couch as Rose tried to push me off—she was still grinning, the brat—by throwing me off the chair , but I just slid on top of her, determinedly keeping my hand over her mouth. She tried to throw me off once more, resulting in us tumbling off the chair, but the second we hit the floor I covered her mouth with my hand again—before she stuck her tongue out and it _touched_ my hand. I still didn't move my hand, though.

"Okay, seriously, that was gross, but I have four little siblings—you think someone licking my hand's going to make me let go?" I asked, my eyes narrowing, and she shrugged a little (despite the fact that her back was on the floor and I was kneeling beside her), raising her eyebrows. I rolled my eyes.

"Molly," Al said with a cheerful grin, stepping up to the group. "Would there be a specific reason that you're trying to murder Rose—?" I glanced up at him.

"I need a reason?" I asked after a second.

"No, don't get me wrong, I'm certainly on your side." Al said easily, loping past Fred to take the seat that Rose and I had just occupied.

"She keeps—"

"Eh—" James jumped in, standing up at the same time as Fred did; Sera shot James a look. James Sirius Potter was known for a lot of things—his short temper; his general dislike of everyone but Sera and his cousin, Louis Weasley; his tendency to be a little more aggressive on the Quidditch pitch than absolutely necessary—but he was not known for jumping into conversations. The few I'd had with him, he'd either mocked me or been dragged into them.

"Al—come upstairs and help me look for my—" Fred said, grabbing Al's arm, intending to drag him forcibly away. Rose twisted, though, and she got out from under my hand.

"Hah, take that—" Rose said triumphantly, sitting up.

"Rose—" James tried, taking a step towards his cousin.

"Molly kissed Rory!" Rose continued. I smacked her arm.

"If you don't stop shouting, I'm going to take _everything in your trunk_ and dye it black. Every piece of clothing you own." I threatened, wiping my hand off on my jeans. Rose looked undaunted by this: it'd been worth mocking me despite the potential loss of her wardrobe.

"Get some tact, Rose—" James snapped at my best friend, and Rose and I both scowled up at him. After a beat, though, our gazes were drawn to Albus, who James was standing beside; Al looked like someone had punched him in the gut. I blinked, surprised at how hurt he looked, before I leaned back on my heels.

"Al?" I asked after a second, feeling uncharacteristically concerned—I was only ever concerned about people I cared about. And I didn't give a damn about Al—yet, I still felt concerned. My best friend's cousin managed an inch of composure, frowning down at me, and I felt that feeling grow—antsy, somehow, but also deeply bothered, like when I fought with Rose. "What's wrong?" I asked uncertainly, the words strange in my mouth.

"Nothing." Al muttered, frowning at me and flinging himself into the chair that Rose and I had just stopped occupying. Rose jumped in with some remark about how she'd just been about to sit there, but Al and I didn't even spare her a glance. He was still scowling at me and I swallowed.

I didn't like this one bit.

* * *

"Have you seen my white sweatpants?" I asked Rose as I rifled through my trunk that night. "Godda—I swear it, this _Pack_ spell, it's complete nonsense! Everything in here is all over the place—my shirt was wrapped around the picture frame I've been looking for!" I said, chucking the frame that held the Christmas card picture onto my bed gently. "No wonder I can't find anything—"

"Er, well, don't blame the charm for the pants." Rose said, peeking her head out of the bathroom with a sheepish smile, as she patted her face with a washcloth, drying it off. "I borrowed them." I stopped searching and lifted my head to glare at her angrily. She disappeared back into the bathroom, and I rolled my eyes, going to the other trunk.

"Borrowed?" I echoed dangerously.

"Without permission," Rose clarified from the bathroom.

"Borrowed without permission means stealing." I said adamantly, glaring in her direction more for my own satisfaction than for actual effectiveness.

"You say tomato, I say tomato," She said, pronouncing the words differently in an airy sort of voice, and I glared _harder_ in her direction, to no avail.

"That is different, Rose Weasley, and you know it." I said irritatedly after a moment, pulling out my wand and brandishing it generally towards Rose's half of the room. "_Accio pants_." I said shortly, feeling ridiculous. Rose's trunk jumped up and tried to open, but the half-closed padlock on the front held it shut. "Why'd you lock your trunk?" I demanded of Rose as I walked across to the trunk, and pressed my wand to the lock.

"No—don't open—"

"_Alohamora_," I said as Rose appeared in the door of the bathroom, her eyes wide. The trunk snapped open and my pants flew at me. I caught them one-handedly, glancing towards Rose with a frown, just as _something huge and brown leapt from her trunk_.

I didn't waste my time screaming, just jumped out of the way and then scrambled onto my bed, gaping down at the massive, angry book that was snapping it's covers threateningly like jaws at us. Rose squeaked, throwing the washcloth still in her hand at the book before she leapt over to my bed too, jumping up so we were both holding onto the bed posts of my canopy bed. "Rose." I said after a beat. "What in the name of God is that _thing_." I hissed at Rose, both of us staring down at the creature. It had little feet, and was hairy, and had four eyes—or maybe six, I couldn't tell from this angle. The only thing that had really registered, in fact, was that it had _lots of teeth_.

"My dad's copy of Monster Book of Monsters—" Rose said, looking distressed, and I gaped: Rose's book was an actual _monster_? What in the name of _Merlin_? "They stopped making them bite people years ago but my dad got all sentimental when I started Care of Magical Creatures, said it was the only class he ever got an O in—made me take his copy for good luck."

"You have a book that _bites people_?" I demanded. "Don't your parents _like_ you?" Rose smacked my arm and I shoved her shoulder, flashing her a scowl before looking back down at the book, which was wandering around the floor, growling. Rose and I stared down at it for a moment as it growled. "Did your dad mention how exactly we were supposed to beat the damned thing?"

"Not really." Rose said vaguely, pushing her hair out of her face.

"My question warranted a yes or no answer." I retorted, not moving my eyes from the thing on the ground.

"Yes, well, I think my mum might have said something but I don't—remember—"

"It didn't occur to you—_oh, I have a book that wants to bite me, I should probably learn how to stop it from doing that?_" I demanded.

"Well, I bought a real copy of the book and I just use _that;_ I usually leave my Dad's copy in the bottom of my trunk and make sure it's got an encyclopedia on it or something—"

"And it's never gotten loose before?"

"No, it did my second year, but it ate all of my clothes—"

"It did _what_?" I demanded seethingly, my head snapping up to look at her. Rose blushed sheepishly, and I sighed explosively, before something occurred to me. "Wait, Rose—you told me not to open the trunk, you knew it was loose in there!"

"Well, yes—"

"Why didn't you look up how to restrain it properly _then_?" I interrupted loudly, glaring. "Back when we could _walk around our room without being murdered by a freaking textbook_?"

"Let me speak!" Rose snapped at me, her voice rising to a shout. "And because Madame Pince is damned scary so I can't go to the library, and then I just sort of forgot about it!"

"You forgot about the _killer book _in your trunk?" I demanded skeptically.

"It won't _kill _us!" Rose shouted. We glared at each other angrily across my bed for a moment before I finally sighed shortly.

"It won't?" I checked.

"My father wouldn't give me a book that could kill me." Rose reasoned, her voice at a normal volume. The book snapped loudly, and Rose screamed a little, snapping her wand at the thing, and a blue curse shot out of her wand, whipping out at the book. It jumped a foot in the air before slamming at the bed, hitting the bedposts, and the bed shook: I cursed loudly as Rose and I both fired spells at it, not caring that they were rebounding in every direction. The book seemed not to be very bothered with that, though, because it slammed into the bed again, beginning to gnaw at the bedpost

"Are you _fucking_ with me—" I demanded loudly. "It's eating my _bed_?"

"_Stupefy_—" Rose's stunning spell bounced off the stone floor and straight to her bed, pretty much exploding the thing.

"_Expulso—" _ I growled, effectively gouging out a chunk of the floor and throwing dust into the air.

_ "Gelo!" _Rose tried freezing it, but the spell just collided with the floor in a mess of blue sparks.

_ "Relashio!" _ Sparks poured down on the book, streaming from my wand, which whimpered and backed off. Rose and I stood there, our wands pointed at it nervously, the sparks still streaming from my wand.

"_Duro_," Rose murmured after a second, prodding my bed post, and my bed turned the stone. I blinked, before I glared at her.

"What'd you do _that_ for?" I said irritatedly, glaring at her.

"It was eating your bed… unless that book is like, a quadruple-X rating from the Ministry, it can't eat stone. So, we're good now."

"Cept, I have a bed made from stone."

Silence. "I didn't think that far." Rose admitted.

"Alrighty." I said firmly, making sure to keep my eyes on the book. I dropped my wand to my side again and looked at Rose. "So we're trapped on my stone bed with a killer book on the loose." I noted in that kind of lackadaisical voice that really signaled that something absolutely absurd was going on: I'd grown far too used to absurd things, so I only got this kind of resigned calm thing going on when things were really weird. "Delightful. I love this. And interestingly, this sort of thing happens a lot: when Thing 1 and Thing 2 were born I magicked one of their stuffed animals to play in Cal's crib—I thought my Dad was going to murder me—"

"Molly, can I ask you something?" Rose asked me seriously, and I blinked, looking at her, before nodding. This was so typical Rose and me—best friends that would rather die than discuss something serious and then decide to jump into all the serious shit we had to discuss when we were doing something else that was all-consuming. "And I want the truth." She looked at me. "What happened when your Dad kicked you out? Because all I've heard is that you got hurt. And I've listen to Albus rant about how panicky he is that you're being abused. But, other than that—I just—need to know. Exactly what happened." She looked at me. "And you're my best friend so I get to know what happened. Maybe I'm being selfish but I have a right, as your best friend."

I stared at Rose for a second: I wasn't sure she was wrong. I didn't understand friends. I wasn't stupid, I was just—not trusting enough to be friends with people right off the bat. So even Rose—Rose who might as well have been my sister, who I trusted with my life despite every misplaced trust issue I was in possession of—had to push for information about the big events in my life. God, was I screwed up. "It was Cory's birthday, we were having dinner. The owl arrived with our letters, and—" I shook my head. "I just wasn't expecting it." I smiled a little bitterly at Rose. "I'm an idiot—assuming I was the only one. I thought they were—_safe_, you know?" I laughed, still sounding disturbingly bitter.

"Not your fault that Cory's magical." Rose told me gently, and I turned my tortured gaze to her for a heartbeat. She met my gaze, and her eyes widened a little. "Molly, there is no amount of magic you can do in this world that can make a muggle magical. From the second that Cormac was born, he was magical." Rose said firmly. I nodded unsurely.

"Dad flipped out." I continued after a moment, my voice, for once in my life, sad. "He threw a fit the size of Europe—started shouting about how—I was infecting his children, how I was bringing shame on the family, how this was all my fault and if Ellie or Cal was magical, I'd pay." I closed my eyes, running a hand down my face. "It was a nightmare. Dad had sent Nate and Ellie and Cal upstairs, at least—but Cormac looked terrified and my mom was just—watching. Watching as he screamed at me and—" I sighed shortly. "All I could think about was _I can't believe this is happening_. Dad is a good dad. He taught me how to ride a bike. He came to my football games. He wanted to hear about my day at school. All before I became a witch. And that almost broke me, Rose—I miss having a dad who gives a damn. And suddenly, right before me, it was happening to Cormac. My little brother." I shook my head. "Dad shoved me against the wall—and he grabbed my wrist, and that's when it got bruised. He took the letters and tore them up, and then he told me that I was never coming back. He hated me, he didn't want me, and I was screwing up his normal children. So he kicked me out. I went upstairs, packed my bags and Cory's, and Cory came upstairs, and we said goodbye to Nate and I disapparated with Cory. A minute later, I was in the Leakey Cauldron, crying into Al's fucking shoulder like a two-year-old." I said finally. "That's what happened, Rose. I was strong until I couldn't be. I let my Dad freak me out and then I went upstairs and I didn't say goodbye to Cal or Ellie. I didn't give Cormac a choice as to whether he was coming with me. I didn't tell my dad to go fuck himself." I exhaled. "My family imploded in a night and I proved myself to be no better than my coward of a father. How's _that_ for an explanation."

"Your dad is a mental case." Rose said after a beat. "And you're not a thing like him, Molly. You're Gryffindor. And you're a kickass big sister, and Cormac and Nate and Cal and Ellie owe all their sanity to you. And your parents obviously need parenting classes." She looked at me for a second. "You're such a grown up, Molly. I wonder sometimes if you just turned…forty, on your eleventh birthday."

"I did. You can't imagine how confusing that was." I said sarcastically, flickering a smile at her, and Rose flashed me a weak grin. She sank down to my bed, her legs folding under her, and I did the same thing. The book was grumbling on the floor, but it seemed to have calmed down.

"I'm a walking disaster." I said softly.

"You're not a disaster." Rose murmured.

"I'm definitely not good." I said softly, looking down at the blanket on my bed and picking at it. "My dad kicked me out, so I'm kind of homeless. And I've got a little brother that I need to keep an eye on. And I've got OWLs this year that I have to ace or end up being a waitress at the Leakey Cauldron for the rest of my life…."

"Okay, you're not homeless. My parents are your legal guardians and even if they weren't you know you can stay with me whenever, wherever. And then Cory needs keeping an eye on but he's a decent kid, and he's not running into walls or anything so don't stress too much about him—he's eleven, not three." Rose said gently, and I nodded a little, feeling exhausted. She paused, watching my response before grinning wickedly now. "And if your new boytoy helps you study for your OWLs, I think you're fine."

"Don't call him my _boytoy_—Merlin, I kissed him once and agreed to let him take me to Hogsmeade next week, we aren't getting _married_—" I muttered, blushing. "And boytoy makes me sound like a slut. Which I'm not." Rose waggled her eyebrows suggestively at me and I sighed in frustration. "This isn't a big deal. You're always hooking up with one boy or another—why don't I get to make a big deal out of _that_?"

"You didn't _tell_ me about Hogsmeade." Rose said, ignoring my little jibe at how many boys she dated. "That's so _cute_— he's such a gentleman, Molly, you're so lucky. Seriously, I think Greg learned how to treat his dates from—God, I don't even know." She rolled her eyes. "Y'know he forgot his wallet on our last date?"

"He likes you." I pointed out. "That's something."

"He doesn't like me, he just thinks I'm pretty." Rose scoffed. I blinked: Rose had just copped up to dating a boy who didn't like her. Rose was a little annoying and a little cruel to her boyfriend but she'd never dated boys like that before. She was always the one who didn't like a boy. She'd never dated a boy who didn't like her, because that _never happened_.

"Rose—what—if you _know_ that—" I stared at Rose. "What are you _doing_ with him?"

"Well since I'm breaking up with him _tomorrow_, I'm obviously not doing much with him." She muttered, blushing a little: she was embarrassed that I'd caught her at this. I raised my eyebrows. "But honestly, I thought he'd annoy Scorpius." She admitted after a beat. I blinked: this was a flood of new information.

"_Malfoy_?" I demanded after a second. "Of all the people in the world for you, Rose Weasley, to like—it had to be _Malfoy_?" I paused.

"I don't like him! I just—wanted to bug him, and I know he's friends with Greg and he always gets mad when I date people he's friends with." Rose tried.

"Failure." I sighed, fixing her with a look. "Do you hear yourself? _I don't like him I just want to annoy him with the boys I date—_" I shook my head. "You _like_ him."

"Shut up, I do not."

"I'm not buying this even for a second, Rosie." I muttered, and the book on the floor snapped it's covers together, growling again: we evidently hadn't been paying enough attention to it.

"Yeah, cause you're not doing the same thing with Albus." She said under her breath as we both twisted to look at the book.

"Care to repeat that?" I hissed at her, glaring.

"Since I value my life, no. But you heard me and you know it's true."

"I know no such—" The book slammed towards the bed, smacked into the now-stone bedpost, and then stumbled backwards, it's several eyes blinking out of coordination. Then it scowled up at us reproachfully, and Rose laughed at it. It snapped it's jaw-covers at us. "Stupid book." I muttered under my breath. Rose leaned over to glare at it.

"You didn't happen to come up with a game plan for this while we were having that little heart-to-heart, did you?" Rose asked after a second.

"You're the one who owns the book. Get your own game plan." I said irritatedly. I paused. "Do you think it sleeps?"

"I mean, it should?" Rose said uncertainly. "Because it eats. I have to assume it sleeps." She paused. "Right?"

"Don't ask me." I muttered, looking down at the book again: it was just stumbling around, growling. "How exactly is it that _you _are somehow the prefect?" I grumbled under my breath. Rose sighed softly, and I glanced up at her, frowning.

"I'm still unclear on that myself." She muttered, glancing up at me, and I raised my eyebrows. "We're, what, three, four days into school, and I'm already realizing that I am _not_ cut out for this prefect thing." She rolled her shoulders uncomfortably, before sinking down on my bed, crossing her legs as she sat. I hesitated before sitting down beside her.

"Yeah you are." I said after a second.

"I'm really not." Rose said shortly, for once dropping all pretense and sounding kind of desperate. "I don't—I want people to like me, Molly, and I care about that a lot—and I'm not apologizing for that, I've never changed to get people to like me, I just—I'm nice to them and I smile and I'm interested in their lives and then people like me and I'm happy." She shrugged. "But I can't—do this job properly and have people like me."

"Oh, sure you can." I said easily, and Rose frowned at me skeptically: my mind raced as I struggled for an example. "Look at—Sera." I said easily, waving my hand in the air. "Serafina Finnigan is a prefect and she gives detentions and people like her—"

"Sera's different, she's got James backing her and no one's stupid enough to think that they can get away with not liking Sera. James would kill them." Rose said shortly, and I shrugged a little: she wasn't wrong.

"Rosie, you'll be fine. I swear it. Both your parents were prefects, so it's in your blood, and, for the record, the fact that you're even worrying about that balance, that's good." I said honestly to Rose. "It means you're actually good enough to do this—a lot of people would just make their choice and be done but you're trying hard. You're good, I swear it Rosie. You'll be fine." The book rammed my bed again, and Rose and I both immediately leaned over the side of the bed, sending hexes at the book. It shot under my bed, growling loudly now.

"We're not sleeping much tonight, I assume." Rose muttered irritatedly.

"I'm not sleeping in my _stone_ bed or with a killer book on the loose in our room, so no." I said flatly.

"Great."

* * *

"You are looking just, ravishing, this morning." Fred said sarcastically as Rose and I trudged up to the Gryffindor table the next morning. I glared at him, grabbing a croissant and chucking it at him as I sank down on the bench, and Rose just folded her arms and dropped her head onto them.

Fred's reflexes apparently weren't up to par in the mornings because the croissant bounced off his forehead and landed on his plate, and Albus, beside him, smirked a little. "Those are the same clothes you were wearing yesterday," Albus noted from beside Fred, raising his eyebrows at us, and I nodded tiredly.

"May I ask why you two look so charming this morning?" Fred continued, glancing up at us, and I pushed some of my unbrushed hair out of my face. I shot Al a quick appraising look as I reached for the pitcher of pumpkin juice: he seemed better this morning. He flashed me a crooked grin as he caught my gaze on him, and I scowled at him: he was definitely back to normal.

"Molly's a sadist." Rose grumbled into her arms.

"Am not." I retorted lazily, pouring the pumpkin juice into my cup. "What occurred last night was not my fault."

"It certainly was not mine." Rose retorted haughtily, lifting her head to glare at me.

"_Your_ Monster Book of Monsters," I began, then took a sip of the pumpkin juice, swallowing it before continuing; "_your _open trunk; _your_ much-too-thin belt holding the thing shut—"

"_Your_ stupid need to get into my trunk hence it being open in the first place—"

"_Your_ stealing of my sweatpants—" I muttered, putting my cup down.

"Alright, well, I'll give you that, but—"

"Nope, done, I win." I said with finality. Rose glared at me.

"I hate you."

"Almost as much as I hate you." I agreed ironically, before looking back at the breakfast buffet that the Hogwarts' houselves had been so thoughtful as to lay out for us. I picked up a chocolate chip scone and took a hearty bite out of it, looking up at the boys across the table.

"I'm sorry, but as much as I appreciate your and Rose's witty banter, nothing said there was an explanation." Fred noted after a moment.

"Oh, my dad's copy of Monster Book of Monsters is loose in our room, so…" Rose shrugged. "We had to build a bridge between our beds and then to the door and then we had to charm the book away from the door so we didn't set them loose on the whole school—" Rose shrugged. "We were up half the night building a little crazed-book-proof mode of transportation in our dormitory."

"Why, may I ask," Fred began with his usual voice of grandeur, "didn't the witches who are sitting before me _charm_ the lovely book into their trunks—"

"You can't charm books, genius." Al said, rolling his eyes. "Copyright issues and the like—made it impossible."

"Oh, well then." Fred said.

"We tried to destroy it." Rose said darkly. "Our dormitory looks like a war zone. And now Molly's bed is made of stone because the book was _eating it _so I valiantly saved it."

"Cept now _my bed is made of stone_." I growled at Rose.

"You might want to talk to Uncle Neville about that." Albus acknowledged.

"Heads up." Fred said, his eyes above Rose's and my heads, and I heard the swoop of owl's wings: over fifty spilled into the Great Hall. Only one landed at our group, stumbling onto my plate and dropping the thick envelope. He took off immediately, disappearing through the double doors, and I looked down at the envelope.

"You get mail?" Rose asked, a little rudely. I glared at her, before picking up the envelope and tearing it open. "I just meant—you only have muggle relatives…They might not get owls…" I turned the envelope over and onto my empty plate, and two letters and two photos as well as another piece of paper fell out.

"From Nate." I said shortly. "I taught him how to write me with owls—" I lifted one of the letters, recognizing Nate's hand writing.

* * *

_Molly—_

_ Dad calmed down fine. I wouldn't worry about him—Ellie was mad you didn't say goodbye for a heartbeat but the second she got her hands on the hat all was forgiven. The photo's in the envelope, as requested, with Ellie roaring at the camera—as is a drawing Cal made of our family. It didn't make it onto the fridge because of the wand that Cal drew you holding...I had to tell his teacher that you did fencing and that was supposed to be a rapier so in the event that you ever meet her and she asks about fencing, just go along with it. Also (sorry, I might have gone overboard on the pictures, but you asked…) included is the traditional photo of us on our first day of school. And before you take a shot about how ridiculous I look in the uniform—remember, you wear freaking _robes _to your classes._

_ On a more serious note: Mum sent a letter. She's not happy with you because you performed magic in front of Ellie, but she also feels guilty about Dad kicking you out… I don't know how that works either but, hey, she's the crazy one, not me. You don't have to read the letter, by the way. I mean, she intends for you to read it. But I would understand it if you didn't. She kind of screwed you up._

_ Back to Cory for a second—talk to him. He's pretty freaked out, not that he'd say anything. He has to take flying lessons too (you fly at this school? Why wasn't I aware of this?) and he's freaking out that he'll break his neck so can you just make sure he…well, doesn't? I'm fairly sure the only thing that would make Dad madder than having Cory die would be having to explain to the neighbors that he was _flying_ when he died…_

_Love,  
Nate_

_

* * *

_

"You have two letters." Rose noted, frowning. "I have none. I feel unloved."

"One from Nate and one from my mum." I said emotionlessly, putting Nate's letter back down. I didn't touch my mum's letter, instead lifting and unfolding the drawing that Cal had made and inspecting it.

"Nate?" Fred asked.

"Her brother." Al said quietly, and I glanced up at him, surprised: Rose barely remembered my siblings' names. Al already knew who Nate was? "Are you going to read your mum's letter?" He asked, and I exhaled shortly.

"Nope." I said shortly.

"I think you should—" Rose began softly.

"Rose, leave it." I said quietly, looking at the pictures. The picture of Ellie roaring was on the primary school playground; I recognized it from the days I'd used to go to that school, and she was roaring, but she also grinning, looking delighted. The other picture featured my brothers and sister in their uniform—Nate and Cal in black pants, white shirts, and red sweater-vests, and Ellie in her jumper with a blouse underneath with the maroon button-up sweater on. Nate was clearly uncomfortable—his shirt was tucked in and his hair was gelled back—but Cal and Ellie had their arms around each other, grinning. I smiled a little, flipping the picture around and holding it out. "Cal, Ellie, and Nate." I said with a hint of pride in my voice.

"Ellie looks just like you." Rose squealed, snatching the picture.

"Her eyes are gray though." I said, tilting my head to the side.

"Callum and Cormac both have that sandy-haired Irish boy thing going on, hmm?" Rose said. "And Nate's cute." She looked up at me. "Why didn't you tell me Nate was cute?"

"Mkay, you're done—" I said easily, snatching back the photo. "My brother will not become another casualty of your love life."

"I would never date someone younger than me." Rose muttered. "I'm just saying. He's cute."

"Leave Nathaniel alone." I growled at her, putting the pictures down on the table. Al reached across the table and lifted the picture that Cal had drawn, his eyes gazing over it.

"You have a wand." Al said, flickering a smile at me. "You told Cal about magic? Isn't that dangerous?" I shrugged a little.

"I told him when I was like twelve—I didn't know anything when I was twelve." I shrugged. "I think I wanted him and Nate and Cal and Ellie and Cormac to be magical then, too." I raised my eyebrows. "We see how _that_ turned out."

"Okay, we're dwelling on positive things." Rose said cheerfully. "Rainbows. Pixies."

"Pixies aren't positive." Fred pointed out, but he was grinning. "Pixies are angry little buggers. They pull your hair and—"

"Frederick, unhelpful." Rose scolded.

I rolled my eyes, tuning out my friends as I looked down at my mother's letter. I didn't want to read it. I didn't want her to apologize like this—I wanted her to do it right. I didn't want her to _have_ to apologize.

Stupid screwed up family.

* * *

_Nate—_

_ Thank you so much for the drawing Cal made—please send me anything else like that. I miss them heaps. And I know you warned me, but… seriously, that picture, Nathaniel. Maroon plaid does not suit you. _

_ Also, your birthday's coming up! What do you want? I'll get you something really cool and magical if you swear a hundred times not to show it to Dad and to make sure you have a good excuse in mind before you use them in front of muggles. My friend Fred's dad makes some wicked prank things if you're interested. Also—what about Christmas break? I want to see you all…_

_Love,  
Molly_

_P.S. I didn't read Mum's letter._


	7. Past My Shades

**Past My Shades**  
_If you asked me what's on my mind, you probably won't believe it_  
_'Cause if life was one big pool I'd be in the deep end,_  
_So I play my role and never ever speak it, like a secret,_  
_And all the while you just try to figure me out._  
_But you can't see past my shades. —B.o.B._

"He was so _sweet_," Rose sobbed next Friday as we sat in the Common Room. I sighed tiredly, rubbing her back as I offered her the box of tissues that I generally kept on me for this exact reason. She'd put off dumping Greg—put it off and put it off for six days, until I'd made her do it. And now she was sitting on the floor of the Common Room, sobbing like a toddler.

"I know, honey." I said tiredly. I'd had this conversation with Rose a hundred times—maybe not necessarily with this he's too nice complaint, but with the same basic guidelines. She broke up with him. She cried like she'd been dumped. The only variation on this pattern had been when Liam and Rose had both gone to dump each other in the same conversation and then felt really hurt… It'd been bad.

"I mean—we were just standing there and I was just like—_Greg, it's over_—and he just nodded and said he was sorry—and—" She broke into a new round of tears, and I resisted the urge to hide. I hated tears. I hated it when other people cried, I hated crying—I just, wasn't a fan of tears. A few third year boys edged past us, looking terrified of Rose's tears, and I rolled my eyes, shooting one of them an angry glare when he stared at her. "Why did he have to be so _nice_? It would have been so much easier if he'd just—yelled, or something—"

It was times like these that I wished that there were other Gryffindor girls our year. They could take care of Rose while I hid from her. But this was, frankly, the only time I ever wished something like that. I would have been some kind of disaster if I'd had to live with a bunch of girls I didn't like or trust. And I didn't like or trust a whole bunch of people, so chances were my other, imaginary roommates would have fallen into that category.

"Godric _Fucking _Gryffindor—" Liam muttered as he walked up in front of us, glaring at Rose. "Rose, we have rounds in ten minutes and you're actually sitting here having a mental breakdown—" Rose shrieked a little, flicking her wand at him, and Liam, cursing at her, ducked out of the way, letting the hex hit the mantel of the fireplace. Liam twisted to see the damage inflicted—she'd cracked the vase that had sat there since our first year—before turning back to his ex-girlfriend, his eyes wide. "Rose!"

"I'm sorry!" She sobbed, standing up and throwing herself at Liam, hugging him tightly, burying her face in his shoulder. "I'msorryI'msorryI'msorry—" She said so quickly that the words turned into one. Liam just froze for a second before hugging her back gingerly, meeting my gaze over her shoulder.

"Molly, help." He said after a second, looking alarmed. I smirked, shaking my head. Liam scowled at me and I just met his gaze evenly: I was not very troubled by his glares. If anything, I felt a little bad about leaving Rose with Liam, but the fact of it was, as bad as she was feeling about Greg, I obviously wasn't helping. And as much as I loved Rose, and her sadness on her breakup was sort of understandable… this was kind of ridiculous. Her complaint, here, was that the boy she'd been dumping had been _too _nice. So maybe Liam could smack some sense into her or something. "Molly Gale—I'm not even kidding, get your best friend off my shoulder—"

"Your problem now, sucker…" I said, and Liam glared at me violently. I rose to my feet and glared back just as violently—in terms of anger issues, Liam and I were pretty evenly matched.

"Molly, I swear to Merlin—"

"I'm going to go get dinner. So I'm going to pop down to the Great Hall, and you're going to go on rounds with your fellow prefect. Have fun." I said firmly. I turned away and walked quickly across the Common Room, shooting the third year boys scathing looks, and I saw Lily Potter giggle next to them. Lily was Al's little sister and kind of obsessively studious, as well as pretty decent at keeping her brothers in line, for someone so little.

I slipped into the hallway and passed a few people on my way out: dinner was almost over, and most people had already eaten. I turned into the staircase and jogged down one set of stairs, turned then down another, and then through the final hallway, before I turned into the Great Hall. It was almost deserted: Professor Longbottom and Professor Gilbert were still eating, and then Fred and Albus, as well as a couple of kids at the Hufflepuff table.

"Hey Molls," Al said impishly, grinning up at me, breaking off his conversation with Fred instantly. I flashed him a glare, but slid into the seat beside him.

"Don't call me that." I said irritatedly.

"But it's so cute—"

"Albus Severus Potter, stop calling me Molls." I growled slowly, lifting my head to glare at him irritatedly. He met my gaze for a minute before he chuckled.

"Fine, fine." Al said with a grin. "So why are you just now getting your delicious food?"

"Can't you just leave me alone…?" I demanded, flashing him a glare as I heaped food onto my plate: I was _starving_.

"No. Why are you just now getting food?" Albus demanded.

"And where is your partner in crime?"

"Rose is sobbing into Liam's shoulder because Greg was too nice to her when she dumped him." I said shortly, glancing up at the boys. "And I'm just now getting food because I only just managed to ditch Rose with Liam." I rolled my eyes. "Seriously—she's mad he was too nice. She wanted him to be meaner."

"It's better than when she dumped Liam." Fred said easily, shrugging. "Everything's better than when she dumped Liam."

"Okay, I'll give you that, but at least then I felt like she was justified in being that miserable. Now—and I hate to say this, I know I sound mean—but she's just whining now." I sighed shortly. "I'm a bad friend, I know."

"You put up with a lot from her." Al said seriously, shooting me a look. "She's kind of mental. It's not bad to be a wee bit annoyed with her."

"A wee bit?" I asked, laughing a little at the words as I buttered my dinner roll. I glanced up at Al, and he looked far too pleased with himself so I just let my half-smile drop, looking back down at my plate hastily.

"So your big plans with Corner—doing anything specific?" Fred asked after a second, and I glanced up at him, frowning.

"None of your business." I muttered.

"C'mon, Molly—" Fred said with an unholy grin, evidently ignoring the warning look that Al shot him across the table that even I didn't miss. "Let's hear it. I know you want to talk about it—girls always want to talk about their dates, and since Rosie Posie isn't listening…"

"I don't have big plans, we're just going to Hogsmeade, and it's still none of your business, so even if I did have big plans, I wouldn't tell you." I said firmly, flashing him a glare. "Done?"

"No girl goes on a date without planning." Fred retorted.

"I'm a girl, I'm going on a date without planning, thus, you are wrong." I said irritatedly. "How are we still talking about this?"

"Fred." Al said warningly, and I shot him a look: he didn't want to talk about this either? Then what the hell was Fred doing?

"Albus." Fred mocked in a deep voice, but he stopped, glancing at my extremely full plate, which I was going at with a vengeance. Rose was always awkward about eating a lot in front of boys—I was just freaking hungry. "A little hungry, there, eh?"

"I didn't get lunch." I muttered, glaring at him before taking a huge bite of a pumpkin pastie.

"Why?" Al demanded.

"I hate stupid Divination." I admitted quietly. "And Celia Goyle is my partner and she's about as nasty as a girl ever was. So I have to do the reading twice if I expect to retain anything."

"Celia Goyle is your partner?" Al demanded, gaping at me. "But she's a—"

"Grade-A bitch, I know." I jumped in, glancing up at him. "But Rose isn't in my class, you idiots are partners, and I feel guilty making Mikey be my partner. And then the four Ravenclaw kids are all partners. So…" I shrugged. "Celia it is."

"Mikey wouldn't mind being your partner." Fred said after a second.

"Mikey dated me for all of two seconds before dumping me. I have to assume he's not such a big fan of me and I'm not going to force him to be my new best friend." I muttered, embarrassed that I'd been cornered into admitting this. I saw Fred glance sharply at Albus, who was watching me uncomfortably.

"Mikey likes you—just, not as—anything more than friends." Al said after a second, his words unsure.

"Even the uncomfortable we-should-have-remained-just-friends relationships last longer than that did." I said to Al, raising my eyebrows. "I don't mind it much, he's always perfectly civil. I just don't want to be all up in his face about him not liking me."

"No—Molly—he—liked you. Enough to date you." Albus said uncertainly. "He just stopped dating you because—" He cut himself off, and I lifted my head, frowning properly at him now. "Because that stopped."

"Al, stop it, I'm not two, I can handle a boy not liking me." I muttered, pushing my hair out of my face as I scowled at him. "Seriously. Not everyone has to like me. Lord knows I'm not exactly charismatic and friendly." I shrugged. This really didn't bother me—everyone didn't have to like me. I certainly didn't lik everyone. I didn't want to talk about people not liking me, though, and I thought that was pretty reasonable.

"No—argh—you're fine—and perfectly friendly—"

"I feel like that's directly false. I frequently tell you to piss off." I said, frowning at Albus. Albus was blushing, now, and I was extremely confused—and worse than that, I was not a fan of feeling confused. Albus had a knack for confusing me, though, so I just intensified my scowl. "But you know all of this." I took another hungry bite of my food. I chewed and swallowed before speaking again, scowling still. "What are you playing at?"

"Nothing, nothing," He said, waving a hand at me. "I'm doing nothing."

"I fucking hate you," Liam hissed at me as he stormed up to the table. Al flashed him a glare, but Liam ignored him. I ignored him too, taking a hearty bite of my food and chewing it contentedly as Liam slid into the seat beside me and began to yell. "You left me alone with her, you—"

"Liam, piss off." Albus ordered loudly, narrowing his eyes at Liam, and I flashed first Albus and then Liam a scowl: both of the boys were doing two separate things that got on my nerves. That was dangerous ground to tread on, boys.

"Liam, I don't give a damn what I did, and Al, hush." I said firmly.

"You left me alone with Rose." Liam said in a forcibly quiet voice. "When she was crying. Over Greg. _What the hell is wrong with you_?"

"Wait, did you leave her alone upstairs?" I asked, glancing up at him. Rose alone, crying, was worse, because she felt like she'd been abandoned. And in short, she had. But then she was crying and pissed off, and Rose was kind of hard to reason with because she didn't want to listen to you almost as much as she wanted to yell at someone.

"I'm not taking her on rounds with me—" Liam said disbelievingly, his voice rising again.

"You _did _leave her alone! Liam, I swear to God, I'm going to smack you so hard one day—" I threatened angrily, pushing myself to my feet. "Now I don't get to finish my dinner, I hope you're happy," I stepped carefully over the bench, before smacking Liam on the back of his head. "I hope you get attacked by Peeves on your rounds!" I called out over my shoulder as I walked out of the hall, and I turned into the hallway.

I really did hope Liam got attacked by Peeves on his rounds.

* * *

"Rose, I swear to Merlin—"

"Eyeliner is important, Molly—stop blinking!"

"Blinking isn't something in my control, Rose Weasley, and had you paid a speck of attention to the biology textbook your mother made you read last summer, you'd know that—" I growled as Rose assaulted my face with the eyeliner. Rose was forcing me to apply much more makeup than I would normally have ever worn to Hogsmeade—but she was my best friend, and she'd finally stopped crying around one AM last night. I wasn't going to properly argue with her on anything less than a life-or-death situation.

"I didn't even read that textbook, you realize?" Rose said slowly as she finished off her eyeliner, and capped it. "Alright, done." She said, before going back to her trunk. She rifled through her things before grabbing a gray sweater and chucking it to me: I caught it, before slipping it on over my shirt. "You look _gorgeous_." She said, coming forward to play with my hair, and I swatted her away.

"Stop it." I muttered, grabbing my bag from my dresser.

"Ooh, can I put my things in your bag?" She asked. I scowled doubtfully at her. "Please?" She asked me. "I promise not to bother you unless I really, really, really need something—"

"You always think you _really, really _need something and then you get it and it turns out you don't but you've interrupted me anyway—"

"Molly!" Rose said pleadingly, and I rolled my eyes, holding out my bag, and she dropped her wallet and wand into my bag. I snapped my bag shut and Rose grabbed her own sweater and scarf, starting down the steps with me.

"You have to come find me whenever it ends, mkay?" Rose said excitedly.

"How is it possible you're more excited about this than I am and this is _my_ date?" I demanded, jogging down the steps quickly, and Rose followed.

"Because you're secretly an old cat lady while I'm a happy person so I'm just happy in general. About this, about everything." Rose said. She grinned. "Duh."

"I hate you." I said firmly to her. "You take advantage of our friendship."

"As if." She scoffed, but she was grinning. We continued down the stairs for another flight before she glanced up at me. "So what d'you think of Horace Penniweather?" I stopped dead, turning to glare at Rose, who looked at me innocently. I narrowed my eyes at her.

"Is he your next victim?" I demanded.

"Not victim." Rose refuted.

"The next casualty in your war on the male population of Hogwarts, then." I tried, rolling my eyes, beginning again down the steps. Rose flicked my arm as we stepped into the Common Room.

"He won't be a casualty—what do you think of him?"

"You have a short mourning period." I noted. She glared at me: Rose didn't like being mocked, but I did it anyway, all in good fun. "But I guess he's nice enough—a little bland, I suppose, but he's Hufflepuff, so I mean, I don't know what you'd expect…" I pulled a face, and Rose shoved my shoulder.

"You're awful." She scoffed.

"Molly Gale? _Awful_? I think not…" Fred said with a grin, coming up beside me and slinging his arm around my shoulders.

"Weasley, get off me, now." I said coldly, glaring up at him.

"So icy, so quickly, Miss Gale." Fred said loftily, grinning down at me. Al came up behind him, wrestling on a Holyhead Harpies sweatshirt: his mum played for them. "Ooh, good morning, Rosie Posie," Fred said brightly to his cousin, and Rose beamed happily at Fred. "Someone's in a good mood this morning." He said, sounding pleased. Fred and Albus and I agreed on exactly one thing: how miserable Rose made us when she was still getting over a boy.

"She got over Greg." I said shortly, rolling my eyes. "She's already chosen her next boy: Horace Penniweather."

"Ugh, Rose, he plays Quidditch—it's so much worse when you date people we have to play—" Albus growled, pulling down his sweatshirt.

"You're in a wonderful mood this morning." I noted sarcastically.

"Bad night's sleep." He muttered irritatedly after a moment, frowning at me. "And who are you to comment on my mood—you're _always_ in a bad mood."

"I am not."

"Yeah—"

"No—"

"Your intellectual conversation stuns me, it does," Rose said irritatedly, fixing me with a look. "But Molly's going to be late so I'm demanding that this show hit the road—" She grabbed my hand, pulling me after her. "C'mon," Rose called back to Al and Fred, who followed us after a beat. Fred began to talk to Albus quickly and quietly, so I couldn't hear what he was saying, but Al flashed him a scowl, before they both glanced up at me. I met Albus's gaze, surprised at the turmoil in his green eyes. Had I ever seen Albus look seriously troubled like that before?

"So what's your plan?" Rose asked, forcing me to glance back to her as she dragged me through the portrait hole and into the hallway.

"My plan?" I echoed as Rose and I walked ahead of the boys down the hallway.

"The plan you have for seducing a certain Mr. Corner." Rose said, grinning at me: she knew that the words she was saying would bug me. I sighed shortly, flashing her a glare.

"Back yourself up," I began. "I neither need nor have a plan to _seduce_ Rory. I'm going on a freaking _date_, Rose. Not getting married."

"Molly!" I heard a voice call out behind me, and I spun around, along with Rose, Fred, and Al. A little girl with chin length curly black hair sprinted up to me, her eyes wide. I frowned at her: I didn't know this kid. "You're Molly, right? Cory's sister?" She asked me hurriedly, out of breath. I inhaled shortly, frustration welling in my stomach: I knew why this was happening. I'd been in school with Nathaniel long enough to know the voice that my brothers' friends used when they needed me to bail my brothers out of trouble.

"Yeah, why?" I asked hesitantly.

"I'm Savannah Sachar, I'm friends with Cory—he got caught setting off a bunch of the Firecracker things in the courtyard—" Savannah said, sounding panicked. First years were always frantic about getting in trouble. Too bad my brother couldn't have gotten that trait.

"The Weasley Whizbang things?" I asked, checking. I pointed to Fred, and Savannah followed my finger before looking back to me. "The ones that he sells?"

"Yeah—" Savannah said hurriedly, nodding her head quickly, her blond hair bouncing. "He set them to say Donovan Drools and then they exploded into the face of Donovan Goyle drooling…"

"Alrighty—" I said shortly: I loved my brother, but he was kind of retarded. Donovan Goyle was a second year, and if he was anything like his sister, who was my year, he was a bully and spoiled as hell. His family had been a major player in the last Wizarding Wars, but they'd claimed to be reformed. Mr. Goyle had been released from Azkaban early, though, as a reward for handing over information on other death eaters.

"Professor Rostov caught him, he wants to recommend three weeks of detention—" Savannah said in a whisper, sounding terrified. I sighed explosively, running a hand through my hair, thinking. Three weeks was too much for a stupid prank. But I knew Donovan Goyle's dad was on the Board of Governors. The man would be out for blood.

"Did they actually catch him in the act of setting the firecrackers off?" I asked after a moment. Savannah shook her head, and I cursed under my breath. Had he been caught in the act, he was in trouble no matter what. But I could probably lend a hand if he hadn't actually been caught. "Alright—" I said, turning back to Rose. "You find Rory and tell him I'm really, really sorry but my brother's an idiot and I'll meet up with him if I can." I shoved my bag at her, and Rose caught it, her eyes wide. I turned back to Albus and Fred: Albus looked delighted, and Fred was pretty obviously trying not to laugh, though I had no idea why. I fixed him with a dangerous glare. "I will deal with you later, but suffice it to say, it's your fault I'm missing my date with Rory, and you shall pay. Dearly." I said shortly to him, before I passed him angrily. I wasn't even two steps away, Savannah following me, bouncing a little with each step, when I heard Fred snicker.

"_You could hide your glee a little better, mate,_" Fred muttered to Al. I sighed shortly, still walking quickly towards the Headmaster's office.

"I can still _hear_ you." I called over my shoulder to the boys, before I rounded the corner. I glanced back at Savannah. "You're a friend of Cory's?" I asked.

"Yeah—" Savannah said shortly. She chewed on her lip a little, seemingly jogging to keep up with my rocket-fast pace. "I think Cory did it to defend me." Savannah admitted softly to me, and I glanced back at her.

"Why?" I demanded: was this girl a bad influence on Cory or something? I hated to sound like a parent—"bad influence?"—but maybe Savannah was a troublemaker or something.

"Donovan picks on me." She said nervously, blushing. "Cory says it's because I look like I'm an easy target." Savannah said softly.

"Well if Cory did that because he was defending you, than I think he'll be okay." I said after a minute, keeping my voice gentle. I was a whole bunch nicer to kids than I was to Al and Fred and Rose—mostly because I didn't have to hold them to any kind of standard. "I know that, at least with me, he won't be in trouble." I flashed her a comforting smile. "And I promise to get him out of trouble." I said. We turned onto the hallway that had the door to the Headmaster's office, just in time to see Cormac, Donovan Goyle, Professor Rostov, and Professor Longbottom approaching.

"Miss Gale, I was about to send for you." Professor Longbottom said with a serious expression. "But I see that Miss Sachar found you first—" He looked down at the boys. "I'll also be inviting Mr. and Mrs. Goyle to join us." He said. Cory looked up at me, looking defiant, and Donovan just looked angry. "And, I suppose, Ron and Hermione."

"That won't be necessary. I can handle this." I said easily, walking up to them and smiling at my professors. "Let's go upstairs, hmm?"

"Miss Gale, how are you involved?" Professor Rostov demanded, frowning severely at me.

"Cormac's my brother, sir." I said politely. If I was supposed to be getting the little jerk out of trouble I had to act politely. "We've got two other brothers and a sister, as well." I grabbed Cory's shirt sleeve as I walked up beside him, tugging him closer to me. "So should Cory and I go up first, or last?" I asked with a smile, trying to sound happy. The reality was I needed a chance for Cory and I to be alone to tell him to let me do the talking. Longbottom chuckled a little: he was what I was doing—but he gestured for Cormac and I to go first into the transport up to the Headmistress's office. It was small enough that it could only hold two people at a time. "Thanks," I said cheerfully to my teachers. I waited until the transport began to turn and we were properly out of earshot of my teachers before looking down at my brother. "Okay, kiddo, you're going to let me do the talking." I said abbreviatedly to him.

"I did it and I'm _proud_—" I smacked the side of his head, cutting him off abruptly. "_Ow_."

"That didn't hurt, and as much fun as it is right now to play at being Savannah's knight in shining armor—" Cormac blushed, "you'll have second thoughts in three weeks' worth of detention, I swear it." I narrowed my eyes at him. "Also, you're going to shut up because I'm missing my date with Rory for this, and if there isn't some benefit reaped by someone for that, I'm going to murder everyone in sight, including you."

"I did do it." Cormac said after a moment, stubbornly. "Goyle's a—"

"If you say a single curse word, I'm going to hex you." I threatened as the transport turned to a stop. Cory and I stepped off the transport and then slipped through the open doors into the Headmistress's office. The transport started back downwards behind us.

Cormac and I stood awkwardly in the doorway for a minute of silence, the Headmistress sitting behind her desk with her finger up signaling for us to wait. Cory glanced nervously up at me and I resisted the urge to flick him and instead pulled him to my side in a one-armed hug. Cory let me hug him for about two seconds before he pulled away: he could never be caught hugging his big sister. "Miss Gale, Mr. Gale," The Headmistress said, nodding to us from her spot behind her desk. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Cory's suspected of setting of Weasley's Whizbangs in the courtyard." I said diplomatically. "He didn't, though." I reinforced. The Headmistress sighed, and I led Cory to the side of the room as I heard the transport grate back in behind me. Longbottom, Rostov and Donovan Goyle stepped off the transport and I pulled Cormac back against me despite his resistance.

"Neville?" the Headmistress asked, looking up at the teacher. "Miss Gale tells me that Mr. Gale is suspected of setting off fireworks in the courtyard." She frowned at Donovan. "Though I have to confess that I'm not sure how that would involve Mr. Goyle."

"If you would be so kind as to contact Mr. and Mrs. Goyle so that at least one of them would be here—Molly has already decided that Ron and Hermione aren't necessary, though I'd not recommend that." Professor Longbottom said, looking at us.

"Why would Mr. and Mrs. Weasley come for us?" Cory asked softly, looking up at me, and I kept my expression clear despite the nervousness that swamped me.

"Cause Mum and Dad are muggles." I lied quietly after a moment, and Longbottom, Rostov, and the Headmistress all looked at me sharply. I met the Headmistress's gaze levelly, my eyes narrowing a little: yes, I was lying to Cormac. But no, it was _none of their business_. I was on a slippery slope and I recognized that, but I planned on remedying this whole issue before Cory figured it out.

"Your address, Mr. Goyle?" The Headmistress asked him.

"47 Cavanaugh's Cove." Donovan muttered. The Headmistress walked over to the fireplace, grabbing a handful of floo powder and stepping into the fire place. She threw down the powder.

"_47 Cavanaugh's Cove_," She repeated, and she went up in green flames.

"In the meantime, perhaps I could be informed of what exactly happened?" I suggested. "Since I assumed that the Headmistress will tell the Goyles…" I kept my polite smile on.

"You have makeup on." Cormac said, balking suddenly. "Why do you have makeup on?"

"Because I'm supposed to be on a date right now and instead I'm here, bailing out my juvenile delinquent of a brother." I said shortly, glancing down at my brother as my expression faded to a deadly glare. I heard Longbottom laugh quietly, and I glanced up at him, the glare melting off my features. "Sorry for the interruption."

"No problem." Professor Longbottom said easily. "Anyway—what happened was that this morning in the courtyard, there were some extremely disrespectful fireworks set off—I believe they showed a cartoon version of Mr. Goyle's face and the words _Donovan_ _Drools_—"

"Looked pretty accurate to _me_—" Cory muttered, and I clapped a hand over his mouth as Donovan lunged for him. Professor Rostov pulled Donovan back as I pulled Cory back towards me, scowling at Donovan.

"Shut up." I hissed to Cory.

"And Donovan was understandably distressed by this situation." Professor Longbottom continued after a moment. "So he went to Professor Rostov," He gestured to his coworker, who was glaring at me, and I glared back at him: I was really good at Transfiguration, but I hated Rostov, "and expressed his concerns and then informed Professor Rostov of his belief that Cormac had done it. So Rostov brought the matter to me and together we sought out Cormac to settle the matter with the Headmistress." Professor Longbottom said. "And here we are." The headmistress and a tall, slightly overweight man flooed in a half-second later, and I let my hand drop from Cory's mouth, assuming that he'd gotten the message.

The second I landed my eyes on Mr. Goyle, I had to ask myself: why couldn't Cormac have chosen some other man's son to create a problem with? I wasn't blaming Cory—Donovan seemed like an asshole, even if he was only twelve or thirteen—but Mr. Goyle easily had a foot on me, with a receding hair line, and if the angry set of his eyes was any tell, anger issues that trumped mine anyday. Mr. Goyle crossed to his son, nodding to Rostov and throwing Professor Longbottom a withering glare before looking across to Cormac and me. "So this is the boy who set off the fireworks?" Mr. Goyle asked roughly, his hand coming down on his son's shoulder. Donovan straightened up, smiling smugly at Cory, who was glaring at him. "How much detention is he getting?"

"Hold on," I said after a second, frowning at the man: I didn't care how much bigger he was than me, no one decided my brother before he'd been given a fair chance. "We're not even sure Cormac did it. The only evidence is that Donovan said he did."

Mr. Goyle turned to me, his eyes narrowed. "Are you calling my son a liar?" He asked me in a lethal voice.

"No more than you're calling my brother a delinquent." I said angrily, scowling right back at him as I released Cory and stepped past him. Mr. Goyle stepped right up, his face turning purple with anger.

"How dare you," He hissed at me, "you insolent little—"

"Gregory!" Longbottom said seriously, and Mr. Goyle and I both turned to look at my teachers, who were all watching me in shock. The headmistress was watching Mr. Goyle with a frown. "You're not honestly getting in this argument with a sixteen-year-old girl. " Longbottom continued, and I pulled away, scowling: he was scolding Mr. Goyle, but I still resented being trivialized like that.

"Let's settle this civilly," The headmistress agreed, looking from me to Mr. Goyle, and then back to me. "For all that I do believe that Donovan is trustworthy, Mr. Goyle, the faculty of Hogwarts make it a point not prosecute a student based soley on 'he said she said,' particularly when there were no witnesses." I rolled my shoulders, smirking a little, and in the corner of my eye, I saw Donovan's shoulders fall as he threw an angry glare at Cormac. For a moment I wondered—even if we won this, would we really _win_? I mean, Cory might not get detention. But Donovan would beat him to a pulp.

God, did I hate bullies. Particularly when they targeted my little brother.

"Now, that said," the Headmistress continued, and my smile dropped, while Donovan looked hopeful, "I would still like to hear out _why_ exactly Donovan believes that Cormac did this." Everyone looked at Donovan, including his father.

"Cormac picks on me." Donovan said after a moment, putting on a puppy dog face that really didn't suit his face: his face, like his father's, was all sharp edges and hard lines. Nothing sweet there. Even manufactured innocence looked kind of frightening.

"Cormac _bullies_ you." Longbottom echoed, looking from my tall, gangly, dorky little brother to the massive, angry boy standing ten feet away from him. Aside from the simply physical improbability of my brother bullying anyone—Cory was a first year. Goyle was a second year. Had any younger kid ever bullied an older kid? Did that sort of thing ever _occur_?

It was pretty clear that the adults weren't buying this, including Mr. Goyle, who was glowering at his son, and I could just imagine the talk he was going to give Donovan later: _if you're going to lie, lie better_. The fact of it was, though, I was going to give Cormac the same advice the second I got him alone. So it wasn't like I was in any place to judge the Goyles.

"I actually have different information on that." I corrected, raising a hand, realizing suddenly that I knew that this wasn't true for a fact, rather than simply deducing that. Donovan and Mr. Goyle both glowered at me but I glared right back: I did not give a damn who I pissed off. "Cormac didn't do it, first off—" I included, for good measure, "But he also doesn't bully Donovan. Donovan bullies Savannah Sachar. Who is a friend of Cory's." I said slowly.

"But isn't one of your best friends Fred Weasley?" Rostov asked after a moment, frowning at me. "Who, though we can't actually confirm this, sells Weasley Products?" He raised his eyebrows, glancing at the Headmistress. "That's a pretty easy way for Cormac to get his hands on the actual material used in the transgression—"

"I'm _not_ friends with Fred Weasley." I said irritatedly, frowning: now we were talking about one of my least favorite people in my least favorite situation. "I'm friends with Rose Weasley who has as little patience for Fred's antics as I do." I paused. "And, aside from that, even if I were friends with Fred Weasley, that's purely circumstantial." I raised my eyebrows, looking from Rostov to the Goyles to Longbottom, before smirking at the Headmistress. "Insofar as I can tell, you accused Cormac far too quickly."

"I know he did it!" Donovan said angrily, stomping his foot.

"Donovan, hush." Mr. Goyle said, before looking at the Headmistress. "I _demand_ that you punish Cormac—he acted horribly towards my son," He flashed me a smug smirk, "and if no steps are taken, the rest of the Board of Governors will certainly hear of this—" I sighed shortly.

"You sound an awful lot like you're trying to blackmail the Headmistress into making a ruling." I said carefully with a scowl for Mr. Goyle, and the Headmistress and Professor Longbottom gaped at me. "But even _you're_ not that stupid." There was a moment of silence as the room took in what I'd said.

"Miss Gale…" Longbottom said, his eyebrows shooting up as he looked at me. "Alright. Gregory—"

"I will not stand for this insolent of a girl to just—"

"She will be punished, even if her brother is not." Longbottom assured the man, who was now absolutely fuming. "You should be on your way, though—I'd hate to take up anymore of your time." Professor Longbottom continued after a moment. "Donovan, you're free to go." Donovan looked displeased by the outcome but his father shoved him towards the door and Donovan went through it, as Rostov nodded to the Headmistress and Longbottom before taking his leave as well. Mr. Goyle passed me, slamming my shoulder with his, and as he passed me, I thought I heard a muttered word _mudblood_. I felt my eyes widen even as I registered my own surprise, and I looked after him. He threw the floo powder down, muttering something, and then it was just the Headmistress, Longbottom, Cormac and I.

"He called me a mudblood." I said after a second, looking up at my teachers. "He gets to call me mudblood and I don't get to call him stupid?" I demanded.

"What's mudblood?" Cory asked softly, and I glanced around to look at him, feeling a little sad that I had to introduce Cory to this.

"It means someone who's muggleborn," I began quietly. "Except it's an awful word, so you should never use it, and the fact of it is, only the worst type of person cares at all what blood lineage you are." I said firmly: Cory needed to know how this worked. He needed to know that normal people didn't care, and neither should he. "Even the people who claim to be pureblood have at least one muggle relative."

"So it was like… cursing at you." Cory said after a second, frowning.

"Yes it was," Professor Longbottom said, jumping in. "And Molly's right on all counts—" He looked at Cormac. "Is Donovan really bothering your friend Savannah?" He asked him quietly.

"I'm handling it." Cory said firmly, straightening up, and I half-smiled at my brother's words, pride welling between my lungs. I smoothed down his hair, before putting my arm around his shoulders, pulling him against me. Brave baby brother.

"Well look at those Gale kids go," The Headmistress said demurely. "Taking down the Goyles, handling their own problems—I wouldn't have a job if all the residents of this castle had more in common with you." She smiled a little at us, and Cory grinned at her, while I just met her gaze evenly, my smile dropping. "That said: Cormac, I know you did it. Can't prove it, but I know you did it." She said to my brother, before looking at me. "And Molly, as much as I may agree with your taste on Mr. Goyle, you have detention next Saturday, and you're forbidden from Hogsmeade today." I frowned. "You may not address the Board of Governors as _stupid_. I will guarantee you some sort of punishment, everytime."

"But she was just defending me—"

"Hush up, Cormac." I said quietly to my brother. "You got off, we're done here."

"But you have a date—"

"_I _am fine." I said shortly. "You're going to get your little arse kicked into your second year once we get back to the Common Room, though." I looked up. "May we leave?"

"Cormac, go downstairs—I want to talk to Molly for a moment alone." Longbottom said, and I released Cory, pushing him towards the door. He glanced back at me.

"Wait for me at the door, alright?" I asked, and he frowned. "I still need to talk to you." Cory nodded. I looked back to my teachers. They waited until Cory, on the transport, grated out of site before speaking, though.

"Molly," Longbottom said seriously. "I'm concerned that you're lying to Cormac about who your legal guardians are." I glared at him: this was none of his business. He could be a concerned as he liked. That wasn't going to change my mind. When I didn't respond after a solid thirty seconds, Longbottom continued. "And Harry tells me that you're not happy about the switch in custody." I continued to stand there in silence, wondering how long this could go on. We stood there in silence for another minute before he sighed. "Molly."

Silence.

"I'm worried on a couple of levels, I'll be honest." Professor Longbottom said after a moment. "Cormac doesn't respect any authority but you—Ron and Hermione told me that he had no desire to get to know them, and before you showed up, he was talking back to Rosotv and I." Longbottom ran a hand over his hair, scratching the back of his head before leaning on the arm of one of the chairs in front of the Headmistress's desk, clasping his hands on his lap. "Then you showed up and suddenly he was perfectly polite." He paused for emphasis a little. "Does that sound healthy?" I didn't respond, but that was because this time, I didn't have anything to say. "You're fifteen, Molly. I know that you're three quarters of the way to being whoever you're going to be as an adult." Longbottom sighed. "But Cormac's eleven. And your open, vocal disdain for authority is rubbing off on him in a big way." Longbottom fixed me with a look. "You could fix that by cleaning up your own act." I was scowling now, at Longbottom, but I felt so hurt that I didn't dare open my mouth to respond: how dare he question how I was taking care of Cory? "Alright, this isn't going anywhere, you're free to go." Longbottom said sadly after another minute had passed, looking at me. "But I really hope you'll try to clean this up."

I left without a word, turning away and walking out of the office. The transport popped back up after a moment, and I stepped on, turning back so I was facing the open office doors. Longbottom looked deeply troubled while the Headmistress shuffled through some papers on her desk, and the transport began to turn. A moment later, it grated into place and I stepped off. Cormac wasn't there—I was going to _kill_ him—but Albus was, leaning against that wall all casually, as if he thought he could get away with waiting for me to get out nonchalantly.

"You waiting for me?" I asked quietly, walking up to him. I stopped in front of him, leaning against the wall in front of him, looking up at him, for once, with no glare. I was too seriously irritated with a lot of people to even let Albus and his normal irritation onto my radar. He nodded, grinning crookedly at me.

"Thought I'd walk you down to Hogsmeade." He said. I sighed.

"No use." I said shortly. "I've been banned from Hogsmeade for today." I winced. "And I got detention next weekend." I pushed my hair out of my face.

"_What?_" Al demanded after a second, straightening up. I shrugged a little; it didn't matter. I was a little preoccupied by the fact that Longbottom's words were sticking with me. And words that stuck with you were usually the true ones. Was I a bad influence on my baby brother? "You went up there to get Cormac out of trouble and you came down in trouble yourself? What'd you do?" He asked me, frowning down at me.

"I called Mr. Goyle stupid." I admitted tiredly, turning so my back was against the wall and sliding down so I was sitting. I was suddenly exhausted—and I still need to locate Fred, smack him, locate Cormac, and then sit him down for a talk on how people behaved so their big sisters didn't have to bail them out.

"As in _Gregory Goyle_?" Albus demanded, sitting down beside me. I nodded, leaning my head back against the wall. "Do you have any kind of survival instinct? He was a death eater!" Al looked at me seriously.

"And now he's the father of the boy who's bullying my brother's friend." I said quietly, looking at him. Al raised his eyebrows. "He called me insolent, I called him stupid, he called me a mudblood."

"He called you a mudblood?" Al asked, looking angry as he leaned forward. I nodded tiredly. I leaned my head back against the wall, pressing my lips together. I didn't like this—I didn't like that my brother was either being bullied himself or just defending his friends, and I didn't like that I was the end of the road for him. The Weasleys had known Cory for three weeks and despite several attempts to be friendly with him, my brother had resisted all of them. I'd wanted to applaud, before—now I wondered whether that meant something was wrong with Cory. Well, not _wrong_. But…maybe Cormac was screwed up from this. Or maybe I was screwing him up. Imparting my own damage onto him. Oh, God. What if it wasn't my dad that was the bad influence on Cory? What if _I_ was the bad influence?

This new idea made me feel like crying. "Am I screwing up Cory?" I asked after a second, my voice barely above a whisper as I turned to look at Albus. My best friend's cousin blinked before frowning.

"No." Al said after a second, but his voice was gentle. I closed my eyes, leaning my head against the wall. "You're the best big sibling I've ever seen—and I saw Wes Finnigan pull through for Sera when their parents disappeared." His voice was strikingly honest, and it created a lump in my throat. I was always so awful to Albus. And here he was being this incredibly nice to me. "What the hell happened up there that made you doubt that?" He asked me after a moment, his voice soft.

"Longbottom said that Cormac doesn't respect any authority but me, that I'm—rubbing off on him. My 'open, vocal disdain for authority' is rubbing off on my baby brother." I said softly. "I'm a bad influence." I ran my hands over my face. One of my self-defining words was _sister. _I considered myself a great big sister. And no one had ever challenged that—everyone agreed that while I disdained authority and was a little too angry at the world for everyone's tastes, I was a good sister.

Longbottom was making me doubt that.

"He is damn wrong." Albus said seriously to me. "You're not a bad influence. You're a good sister and Cory's lucky to have you here."

"But I'm…" I pressed the palms of my hands into my eyes, resting my elbows against my knees. "I'm only good at being a sister in the muggle world. Evidently, I'm screwing up here pretty frequently." I turned my face, resting my temple on my hand as I flashed Al a sad, bitter smile. "I apparated with Cory, that first night. Apparated. I didn't warn him or anything—I might have killed him. It's not like I'm even licensed." My voice was quiet. "And up there—I know Cory was guilty and I still got him off. Because he's my baby brother and I think he was in the right, going at Donovan like that. But what he did was still _wrong_. And he didn't get a punishment for that." I sighed shortly. "I'm the worst pseudoparent ever."

Albus was staring at me. "First off—you're fifteen, Molly. No one's supposed to be a pseudoparent at fifteen. Especially not to eleven-year-olds—they are a lot more complicated than they look." He said softly to me. "Second, you did _exactly_ what a parent would do. Parents defend their kids—or they're supposed to—" He sighed softly. "And if I recall correctly, your dad was coming upstairs and you had to get Cormac out, fast. You didn't just apparate with him for thrills." He looked at me. "You are a _great_ big sister. Don't let Longbottom make you doubt that."

Al looked at me intensely for a second longer, before just faced forward again, his legs sprawled in front of him. I glanced over at him. "Thanks." I said softly.

"Just glad you're here and not with Rory." He said firmly, glancing back at me. I blinked, then frowned at him, and he grinned weakly at me.

"I'm going to let that slide because you were just relatively civil, but if I were you, I'd go catch up with Fred and Rose now in Hogsmeade." I said after a moment.

"You're not allowed in Hogsmeade today, right?" He asked quietly. I nodded. "Well then, I'm comfortable right where I am." Al said easily, and I wrapped my arms around my self.

This wasn't good.


	8. We R Who We R

**A/N:** _First off, sorry about the song choice kids… this song is my guilty pleasure, however, so just roll with it. & second: the reasons that this was updated in a timely manner are as follows: curly fries, diet coke, a harry potter marathon on ABC family, my cousin Alicia (by whom Molly is at least partially inspired), and my friends Skittles31, Molivline and Leshawnaseville. Dorks won't review my story but they're still my best friends, and whatever witty banter you read in here has probably happened in real life. Third up on my list of things that need to be addressed: if I get three reviews (just three, c'mon) I can top fifty. PLEASE? I'll be the happiest author on this entire site. Finally, NotADreamNotYetANightmare, Bella-Faye and KaitlynEmmaRose: you three are the MOST LOYAL REVIEWERS ever. And it is extremely appreciated, despite my spotty-at-best responses. :D thanks._

_Happy reading!_

* * *

**We R Who We R**  
_If you're one of us, then roll with us,_  
_'Cause we make the hipsters fall in love,_  
_When we got our hot pants on and up,_  
_And yes, of course we does._  
_We runnin' this town just like a club_  
_And no you don't wanna mess with us._  
_—Ke$ha_

"How the hell did you get all twelve OWLs?" I demanded quietly of Rory as we sat on the couch the next Tuesday afternoon. "I'm just getting along in stupid Divination and the only reason I'm even hanging in there is because I've got the mother of all tutors…" I said, glancing up at him from my textbook and flashing him a small, rueful smile. I didn't hand out big smiles just like _that_, though, so for Rory to get himself a small smile said _something_.

After the failed date in Hogsmeade, Rory had spent all of Sunday with me beside the lake: he'd bought the makings for a picnic the day before in Hogsmeade. I'd mentioned casually during this picnic that I wasn't exactly a hook-up kind of girl—and Rory had told me that was good, because he didn't really want his girlfriend hooking up with other guys.

Almost as soon as he'd said that, it had immediately become official Hogwarts gossip. And worse, we were actually getting a lot more attention than I'd originally expected. Rory was certainly one of the more talked-about boys at Hogwarts, so dating him would come with a spot of gossip-baggage, and I'd known that. But I hadn't factored in that he hadn't had a girlfriend in a year and a half. He'd had flings. But it was pretty obvious that this wasn't just a fling—no boy made a fling-girl a picnic. Not even a really gentlemanly one like Rory. So double the gossip. And double the dirty looks from all the fourth, fifth and sixth year girls who harbored huge crushes on him.

"I don't recall being a mum…?" Rory said with a grin, and I rolled my eyes, smirking a little.

"That joke was a little too cheesy to even attempt, Corner…" I told him with faux-disappointment, and he laughed quietly, looping an arm around my waist and pulling me against him. I brushed my lips against his for a little more than a moment, before I pulled away, ducking my head to look back at my Divination homework as two fourth years across the room glared at me angrily. I glanced up at them for a heartbeat, just long enough to shoot them an angry glare, and they both glanced away nervously.

"Molly Gale, fearless scare-awayer of obnoxious fourth year girls." He murmured in my ear, and I blushed, glancing up at him with a half-smile, and he chuckled. "Okay, c'mon, I'll stop distracting you—let's concentrate on your Divination." He said ruefully, patting the textbook on my lap. I inspected the textbook question I was currently struggling with again: _if the tea leaves form a grim but there is a braided pattern surrounding the grim, what is a possible interpretation of the meaning?_ Rory followed my gaze down to the page.

"Which one are you looking at again?" He asked, his hand glancing over to the page, and I slid my hand over his, and moved it so his index finger was right over the braided pattern around the grim question. Rory glanced over the question. "Okay, so this one—braid means intertwining pieces, right? Something complex? And the Grim means something _really_ bad—like properly awful." Rory said, glancing up at me and prompting me through it. I nodded a little, already bored, even if Rory himself was not boring: Divination just sort of…did that to me. "So this could mean a conspiracy." Rory offered.

"But since it's Divination, it could mean a trillion other things." I said irritatedly. Rory chuckled. "It could mean a conspiracy, sure. Or it could mean that a well-cared for dog will be entering my life soon, or it could mean that I'm going to be wearing a braid next time I pass a pet shop—"

"Don't hate on Divination." Rory said with a grin. "It's just—" He fell silent as the Gryffindor Quidditch team began to clamber through the portrait hole, chattering loudly in their scarlet robes. "They make so much noise when they come back." He muttered irritatedly as he glared at the kids entering. He glanced over at me, obviously trying to gage my reaction. "And now that practice is out, I have to watch Fred Weasley like a hawk." He stopped, glancing up at the clock, before pushing himself halfway to his feet. "Oh, crap—I have rounds now with Sera…" He looked doubtfully down at me. "If you still need help I guess I could skip—"

"It's fine." I said easily, the words true. "I'm not _that_ bad. It just takes me a while." I pushed myself lightly to my feet, and he put his arms around my waist while I slipped mine around his neck, and I kissed him, and felt him smile into the kiss before he pulled away apologetically, his forehead touching mine as he leaned closer after the half-second he managed to stay away.

"I've got to go," He murmured after a moment, sounding genuinely apologetic. I kissed him easily, pulling back, and he ran a hand through his hair as Sera Finnigan came up beside him.

"Rore, we're going to be late—" Sera said, grabbing his sleeve as she wrestled off her own scarlet robes; Sera was a chaser. She looked at me apologetically. "Can I leave these with you? Just—give them to Edie or Aileen to bring up to my room…" I nodded, and she chucked them to me, running a hand through her hair as she grinned, and I just met her gaze levelly. "Thanks—and Rory, I realize you're having fun with Molly but please, spare me the wrath of Longbottom if he realizes we're late—Rose and Liam are already losing us points left and right—" She pulled him away, and he flashed me a grin as he turned to follow Sera out the portrait hole, just as the last of the Quidditch team came in. Al and Fred were both on the team, and as they passed Rory on the way in, Al glared pointedly at him, while Fred seemingly rolled his eyes, sighing heavily. Al looked at me, his gaze still dark, but it lightened almost instantly, and he grinned at me. He made a beeline for me, while Rory glanced back at him, scowling himself. Fred sighed, throwing himself down on the couch beside me.

"Miss Molly, Miss Molly." Fred sang, horrendously off the proper notes. I ignored him as Al sat down in the armchair across from me, looking at me seriously, and I met his probing gaze with a frown: why did Al always look at me like that? It seemed like he was trying to figure me out, but I knew for a fact that I really wasn't that difficult to figure out. And aside from that—I didn't _want_ him to figure me out. I liked him not getting me—it was the one comfort level I'd managed to preserve with Albus. "Oh, are you still not talking to me?" Fred asked sorrowfully, and I didn't even glance over at him. "C'mon, it's not _my_ fault your brother got caught." He continued after a second.

"You sold him fireworks, knowing that he was going to do something that landed himself in detention." I growled, glancing up at him. "Without telling me. So you're on my hitlist." I informed him. "And if someone had done this to Roxy, you'd be murdering children."

"I stand by the fact that I wasn't exactly aware that he'd be doing what he did—" Fred said firmly, grinning incorrigibly at me. "And the Cormac/Roxanne comparison kind of fails because Roxy is only nine-years-old." He raised his eyebrows. "So if she set off the fireworks, she'd not be responsible because she barely knows better." Fred raised a finger in objection when I opened my mouth to argue. "Also, he didn't get detention." He pointed out, running a hand through his hair. "You did."

"Not helping your case, there, mate." Al said lazily from the chair.

"Cory's two years older than Roxy, not that much." I said definitively. "And my getting detention on a Saturday makes me want to smack you. So in this singular case, I have to agree with Al—you're _not_ helping your case." I glanced at Al, and he chuckled, shaking his head a little

"You have detention on Saturday?" Fred asked after a moment, his voice filled with muffled laughter, and I looked back at him. Fred was staring at Albus though. "Of course you have detention on Saturday—of _course_—" He burst out laughing, and I glared at him. Why the _hell _was he having this reaction?

"What are you doing?" I demanded after a second, keeping my voice low and lethal.

"You have _detention_ on _Saturday_—" Fred said breathlessly, still cracking up.

"Shut up," Albus muttered, and I glanced at him: Al was scowling at Fred, same as I was.

"Did I break him or something?" I demanded after a second, as Fred continued to laugh.

"_Detention on Saturday_—"

"Frederick Percival Weasley—"

"Aye—not my middle name, Al, I thought we were friends." Fred said, stopping his laughter abruptly to frown disappointedly at Albus. That didn't last long though: two second later, he grinned, looking over at me. "He has detention on Saturday too." Fred said to me, and I raised my eyebrows, looking from Fred to Al and then back to Fred. This revelation didn't change anything. It was odder, perhaps, that Al had even gotten caught doing whatever it was that landed him in detention. Albus Potter was masterful at avoiding detection even on the most elaborate of pranks—I hadn't figured out _how_ yet, but he was seriously skilled at it.

"I don't get it." I said after a second. "Why is this still so funny?" I paused.

"Think, love." Fred said, grinning at me.

"Don't call me 'love,' Weasley." I muttered, glowering. "And _don't_ talk to me like I'm stupid." Fred snorted in laughter. I ignored the sudden nervous feeling in my stomach as I glanced down at my Divination notebook, trying to ignore the boys: Fred wasn't implying that Albus had gotten detention on purpose?

"Incoming." Al said shortly to me, and I glanced up as the Hogwarts-owned owl that I used for mail landed on the arm of the couch, dropping a letter on top of my Divination textbook. I sighed shortly, a little relieved at the mail: I hadn't heard from Nate in a longer than usual. "You definitely get the most mail out of everyone in our year." Albus said, leaning forward. "Seriously—"

"I just have the most I leave at home." I said with a muted glance up at Al, before I looked down at the envelope again, frowning at its blank front. I flipped it over and tore it open, sliding out the sloppily folded letter.

* * *

_Dear Molly,_

_Natey fought with Scott Dixon at school four days ago and he broke his knuckle. He can't send the letters to you anymore because he has the owl fly to the playground at school where he picks Cal and me up so Daddy doesn't see and Mummy told the neighbor girl Sarah to pick us up for the next few days, because he's got detention, and he can't write you a letter because his hand's in this blue cast. Silly Natey. He told me he wanted me to send you a letter, though. He said you liked the picture of me that you sent him and that you want more pictures from Cal and me._

_At school today, I bit a girl who was being mean to Cal. She stole his chess piece. You're not supposed to steal so I bit her. But when the headmaster called Mummy to the school she told me that I am never supposed to bite people. Even if they do steal chess pieces. Do they play chess in magicland? Am I allowed to call it magicland? Can I come to magicland? I changed my mind, I want to be magical. But maybe I don't. Daddy's still awfully mad at you. I heard him and Natey arguing the other night. I was up _really _late listening to them. Then Mummy came upstairs and put me back to bed._

_I love you,_

_Elena Lucasta Gale_

_PS Nate told me that he wants magical candy for his birthday. He says he thinks it must be awfully better than muggle candy. He taught me how to spell muggle and he taught me what it means. People without magic. But I'm not supposed to tell anyone that. So shh.

* * *

_

"Idiot." I grumbled under my breath as I dropped the letter down, running a hand through my hair.

"Everything okay?" Al asked, looking at me seriously, and I shrugged a little.

"My brother broke his knuckle," I muttered, rolling my eyes. "He got in a fight with a boy I used to know…" I shook my head, looking down at the paper and rereading the words. "I thought he knew better than that." I scrubbed at my face tiredly.

"Maybe he had a good reason." Al said easily.

"He broke his knuckle. Getting in fight of that proportion doesn't really indicate a thought-out plan, now, does it?" I raised my eyebrows. "Ugh, whenever I get Cory and Nate in the same room again, I swear to God, I'm going to give them both a long lecture on the dangers of acting like a complete _imbecile_…" I shook my head. "Ugh, I'll stop talking about my brothers now—how was practice?" I asked easily, looking from Al to Fred. Fred shrugged.

"We're getting better—we might be able to win against Hufflepuff next Thursday even if they do have Natalya Swann playing for them—" Fred sighed tiredly, scrubbing at his eyes. "Did you know her sister's playing for the Harpies, now? Aunt Ginny says she's the best on the team…" Fred shook his head, seemingly despairing.

"I don't think I've ever seen you this depressed." I said honestly, raising my eyebrows.

"I want that goddamned Quidditch cup." Fred growled. "We haven't won it in years." He sighed. "Grace is going to kick my ass if we lose again." He shook his head.

"Grace will do what?" the seventh year Grace McClellan said dangerously as she came up behind us, putting a perfectly manicured hand on Fred's head and leaning it back to glare down at him. Grace was the Quidditch captain and had curly black hair which was always pulled back in a ponytail, and perhaps the most tolerable of the seventh year girls. She never wasted her time, especially not during Quidditch season.

"Grace is going to kick my ass if we lose again." Fred repeated, looking up at Grace and grinning unrepentantly. She smiled angelically at him.

"Quite right, quite right, Fred my boy." She looked across at Albus. "Albus, perhaps you could try to catch the snitch this year?"

"I suppose I could try that…" Al said sarcastically, but he glanced at me. "So are you coming to the game next Thursday?" He asked. I shook my head, hesitating before I spoke: I knew he wouldn't like the answer.

"Rory's supposed to help me with my divination work." I said quietly. Al's face fell, as he leaned back, already sulking at the mention of my boyfriend.

"Ooh, I heard about you and Rory—" Grace said with a grin to me: I blinked in surprise, before frowning at her. Grace and I had never talked before. Not even in passing. I was invisible and Grace was popular enough, and on the Quidditch team. Except for now, in this new school year where Albus Potter the Popular wouldn't stop bothering me and I was Rory Corner's new girlfriend. "Rory's been talking about you with James—it's adorable, really—" She continued to grin at me. "Tell Rore to come to try-outs next week, won't you?" She continued. "I want him to try out to be a beater—"

"We have enough beaters." Albus said irritatedly, and Grace and I both glanced at Albus. Grace frowned, confused, but I scowled at Albus for an entirely different reason. I knew Albus didn't like Rory. And every time it came up, I felt _responsible_, somehow.

"We have two beaters. We should have at least three, maybe four." Grace said slowly to Albus, as if he were stupid. Al didn't respond, though: he was too busy glaring at me.

"Sounds like you're wrong, Al." I said cuttingly, my eyes narrowed at him. "Must be hard, having your huge ego cut down to size like that when you're corrected."

"Rory couldn't be a beater anyway." Albus muttered back, glaring. "His arms are smaller than Cormac's—"

"Yes, because you're a body builder yourself," I scoffed,

"I feel like they're definitely not talking about Quidditch anymore." Grace murmured behind me. Fred sighed beside me.

"They're not listening anymore." Fred told Grace tiredly. "Trust me, the amount of sexual tension between them is drowning out the words of everyone else—" I turned and leapt at Fred, punching him in the arm as I pinned him down onto the couch, glaring at him angrily. I was practically straddling him, but I didn't care.

"_Frederick Weasley, so help me Merlin, shut—your—trap before I shut it for you._" I hissed, my hands on his shoulders. He grinned at me.

"Dirty." He said after a beat, smirking. In the corner of my vision, I saw Albus flash Fred an angry glare. And as suddenly as Al and I had been snipping at each other, we were on the same team.

"Al, give me your wand." I said angrily, holding out my empty hand, keeping one hand on Fred's shoulder.

"_Molly_, I need Fred for the game on Thursday, you may not kill him." Grace said whiningly.

"Don't have my wand but I think I can do one better." Al said, and I heard the grin in his voice as he passed me a small, slightly crushed pastry. I didn't hesitate, but pushed the thing into Fred's open mouth: he'd been about to protest us force feeding him. He swallowed it and there was a beat of silence before he began to jerk. And then a moment later, Fred was shrinking, and growing yellow feathers.

And as I'd been holding down Fred, he was a canary.

I blinked as the canary rolled over onto his feet, hopping forward and then back again, looking up at me with it's shiny black eyes.

Albus had had me feed Fred a canary cream.

I burst out laughing, falling back as I wrapped my arms around my middle, collapsing against the couch pillows as Fred the canary chirped angrily at me, hopping forward. "Oh—my—_God_—" I gasped out, still cackling. Al, who had stood up to hand me the canary cream, was cracking up himself, falling against the small coffee table in front of me, and tears of laughter formed in my eyes as Fred-the-canary cheeped and then jumped into the air, spreading his wings and flying at me. "Fred—no—" I couldn't talk for laughing, even as I tried to swat at the canary that was attacking me.

"Oh, Merlin, I love this—" Albus managed to cough out, stumbling to the couch and sinking down beside me, and I fell against his chest. His arm dropped onto my back, his hand resting on my hair. I was laughing too hard to care about our sudden entanglement: there was no other place on earth where you could turn your friend into a canary if they said something particularly stupid.

I loved magic.

* * *

"Done." I said triumphantly, rewarding Rory with a rare smile as I slammed shut my book a week and two days later. I leaned on the table, kissing him chastely. "I swear, if you weren't here, I'd be failing this class."

The week had passed in a heartbeat, despite my Saturday detention with Albus. Or, not really with Albus—we'd been assigned to do different things, much to both of our irritation. I wasn't a fan of Albus, but as a detention buddy, he would have been better than nothing. As it was, I had to muggle-clean the second-floor girls' bathroom with Moaning Myrtle screaming at me the whole way.

"Okay, well, if there were ever a class to fail, it'd be this one." Rory admitted, grinning at me and bringing me back to the task at hand. "Divination's a load of BS, I'm fairly sure." He kissed me again. "So d'you want to go get some food?" He asked once he'd pulled away, and I felt my smile fade a little as the roar from the Quidditch pitch came louder for just a moment: someone had scored.

"Or we could go to the game?" I suggested lightly, grabbing Rory's hand over the table. He grimaced a little, but held fast to my hand.

"I didn't think you liked Quidditch?" he said carefully, and I frowned a little: Rory was a dance-around-the-point person, something that bugged me. I liked it when people were blunt. I, myself, was very blunt. Unfortunately, I couldn't yet pick up on exactly what it was that Rory was trying to say, I could only tell that he was avoiding the point.

"I don't, not really." I admitted: two could play at this time. We sat there in silence for a moment—awkward, avoiding-the-point silence. But I was more stubborn than Rory. I was more stubborn than everyone. So he broke it first.

"Does the fact that you want to go have anything to do with Albus Potter?" He asked me quietly. I blinked, then glared at him.

"I told you we weren't even friends." I said, my eyes narrowed.

"You spend a lot of time together for people that aren't friends." He noted. I straightened up, scowling properly now, and he winced.

"Are you accusing me of something?" I asked him.

"No—Molly—" Rory scrubbed at his face. "I'm going about this all wrong. I just—I'm concerned, okay?" He lifted my hand in his, using his other hand to hold it as well. "Anyone with eyes can tell that Albus has a bit of a crush on you." He smiled weakly at me. "And I heard you two teamed up against Fred Weasley the other day. I trust you implicitly, Molly. I do." Rory continued when he saw my expression darkening again, but I didn't let up: Rory was stepping over his bounds, here. "But I'm worried. Al's scared away other guys before, I know—"

"What?" I asked, interrupting him mid-monologue.

"Al's scared away other guys before." Rory repeated.

"No." I said firmly.

"That kid the year below me that you dated last year—" Rory said, sounding hesitant: he seemed to have realized that I wasn't aware of what he was saying. "Mikhail Palahntuk."

"Albus Potter scared away Mikey?" I asked, feeling oddly confused. It wasn't that it didn't make sense—Albus was arrogant as hell, like that—but the fact that I didn't believe Albus would do something like that. Scaring away my boyfriend without even—well, he wouldn't have but still—mentioning it to me exactly was inspiring that faith in him. "No."

"He did—he had a crush on you, and Mikey started dating you, and Albus scared him away. Because, in Al's mind," Rory looked at me seriously, "Mike encroached on his territory."

"I'm sure that's just gossip." I said dismissively: I simply didn't believe that Al would do that.

"But it's not. Al talked to James about it and I was right there—we were in our dorm." Rory said quietly. I frowned.

"I'll ask him about it." I decided quietly, feeling oddly defensive. "But that doesn't sound much like Albus." I looked back down at my Divination book, feeling out of my element. "Rory," I said after a moment, looking up at him. "I'm going to the Quidditch match."

"I'll come with you, then." Rory said quietly, and I smiled a little at him. I pushed myself to my feet, my hand still in his, as we walked towards the Quidditch Pitch.

We said nothing to one another the whole way down.

* * *

"_GO, GO GRYFFINDOR! GO, GO GRYFFINDOR!_" The Gryffindor side of the pitch roared as Serafina Finnigan slammed forward with the quaffle, scoring. Rory laughed as James Potter whooped, doing a handstand on his broom with Fred Weasley, his arm snuck around my waist, pulling me against him and clapping in front of me, his arm staying comfortably around my waist. Beside us, Rose was reading avidly from the book that she'd hidden in the folds of her robes. I loved Rose to pieces but I was perpetually confused by one thing about her: Rose hated people knowing this, but she liked to read—a lot, actually. Rose was pretty freaking smart, in all honesty—she just didn't like to brag. Or even admit it.

"And Gryffindor is winning, 320 to 180." Donovan Goyle said flatly, as if uninterested; the Slytherin boy was the announcer. I hated this kid even more than I had before. "_Look at Gallagher go_—" Donovan continued after a second, as Brian Gallagher, a boy the year above us who was a beater, swung the bat at a bludger that rocketed off towards Duane Jordan, the Gryffindor keeper. I clasped my hands in front of my face as Duane swung upside down on his broom precariously.

"C'mon, Duane…" I murmured under my breath as the seventh year hung upside down in the air for a moment, before he swung up, and the Gryffindor side of the pitch burst into cheers. Rose glanced up.

"What happened?" She asked me uninterestedly, and I sighed, glancing down at her, before swatting at her head.

"What are you even doing here if you don't like Quidditch?" I demanded.

"Family loyalty and all that." Rose said, waving her hand in the air and glancing at her four cousins on the field—James, Al and Lilly Potter, and Fred Weasley. "They're still alive, I'm safe."

"What about Louis?" I asked—another of Rose's cousins. Her dad was one of seven, and since five of the Weasley children had had children (the first Fred Weasley had died during the war, and Rose's uncle Charlie was the coolest, least commitment-oriented man on the planet), there were a lot of Weasley cousins at Hogwarts.

"He's back in the Common Room, like the intelligent boy he is." Rose said irritatedly. "Hugo made me come to this because he needs me to be his alibi in the event that he gets called out on some prank he's placing in the Slytherin homeroom—"

"_Good try, Gallagher—keep on going & you'll—foul on Potter, FOUL ON POTTER!" _Donovan hollered, jumping to his feet as Gallagher swung his bat at Al, and James Potter, not about to let his little brother get picked on, swung his bat at Gallagher.

"Self-defense, Professor!" Fred hollered, as all four boys spun to face Madame Wood and her whistle as she came up to the boys. "You can't honestly expect us to just let Brian take a shot at Albus—"

"It was an accident," Brian said, smirking openly, and Fred grabbed Al's arm as Albus darted towards Brian, making the older boy jump back a foot, his eyes wide. Al smirked, glancing towards me from his spot, fifty feet away from me in the middle of the field, and I, not even thinking for a second, smirked right back at him. Al grinned at me, and I rolled my eyes, half-smiling at him, before Rory tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear, his head moving beside mine as he pulled me a half-step closer to him, so I was flush against him.

"I told you he fancied you." Rory murmured in my ear, and I turned to face him, staying close and frowning as I rested my hands on his chest.

"I told you to trust me." I insisted quietly. Rory looked down at me irritatedly, but his arms slipped around my waist, so his hands clasped at my lower back. I met his gaze seriously, ignoring the roaring from the stands around us as the game resumed. "I think you're a good guy, Rory, but I refuse to spend my time with any boy who needs constant propping up." I murmured softly.

"I resent that." He said quietly. "I don't need constant reassurance. I'm not a three-year-old." Over the roar of the crowd, I heard Donovan roaring something about someone having seen the snitch. I tried to ignore the game behind me: I wasn't going to prove Rory right but turning to watch the game, even if I did want to.

"Act like it." I insisted quietly, and Rory frowned down at me.

"Stop it, Molly. I'm your boyfriend and you're spending increasing amounts of time with a boy who had fancied you for most of my recent memory." Rory muttered. "I'm not wrong in being a little put out here—and worse than you spending more and more time with Al, I trust him about as far as I can throw him." Rory sighed. "I don't want to to argue with you, though."

"Then let me hang out with a guy who I'm not even really friends with." I murmured after a moment, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand. "It's not a big deal. It's just… it's Albus."

"Exactly." Rory murmured tiredly, pushing my hair out of my face. "It's _Albus_."

"_And Natalya, god bless that girl, catches the snitch—SLYTHERIN WINS!"_ I spun in Rory's arms to face the pitch, feeling my heart sink in my chest as my eyes skimmed the field. Sera was landing with James, holding her wrist to her chest while her boyfriend glared at Brian Gallagher and hovered protectively beside Sera. She'd taken a bludger to her arm part way through the game, but she'd decided to stay in because the team was still short a couple of players because try-outs were next week. Duane Jordan was talking heatedly with Grace McClellan, who was scowling at him angrily, and Nelly Vane was landing with Fred Weasley, both of them looking exhausted. Albus Potter was still flying though, having taken James's beaters bat from him. One of the bludgers came around and Al swung at it, hard, letting it smash across the field, and I sighed, even as Rory grabbed my hand and began to lead me with the crowd down the bleachers, so we could leave.

"Ah, shit, I had a galleon on Gryffindor winning." Rose murmured as she followed us, and I frowned at her.

"You hate Quidditch." I pointed out, glancing back at her. Rose shrugged.

"Well, yes, but Albus was in a monster of a mood today during History of Magic and so I told him, like the sainted cousin I am, that he'd do well, and he said he wouldn't, and I said I believed in him so much I'd place a galleon on Gryffindor." She shrugged ruefully. "So I did. Shows me right—trying to do something nice—" Rose was building herself up for a compliment, and I just rolled my eyes.

The noise of the crowd ended any other conversations we could have had, but as we dragged ourselves down the stairs, I saw Rory glance sideways at me. I looked back at him, and he squeezed my hand.

We got to the bottom of the stairs a minute later and the crowd spilled from the steps to the grass. Fred Weasley was waiting there, and he fell into step with Rory, Rose and me, slinging an arm around my shoulders.

"Weasley, get your arm off of me, or I'll turn you into a canary again." I said irritatedly, looking up at the red-head, and he grinned down at me.

"I've been meaning to congratulate you for that. It's hard to beat me at my own game." Fred said with a grin. I heard the crashing sound of bludger and bat connecting, and we all looked back at the field: far above the pitch, I could see Albus, swinging angrily.

"What the fuck is he doing?" I asked quietly, scowling at Albus. "He's going to hurt himself—he just worked as hard as he could for the last two hours."

"My dear cousin has a spot of—oh, let's call it immaturity, for lack of a pleasanter term." Fred said ceremoniously, and when I shot him an impatient glare, he exhaled shortly. "Al is a touch of a sore loser. And he built himself up to win this and then Natalya got the snitch. No fun." Fred said, serious for a half a beat before he shrugged again. "He's a big boy. He'll get himself down." Fred told me after a second.

"It's getting dark, he shouldn't even be playing, especially not with his Quidditch goggles—they're his old prescription, he's not bothered to update them yet." Rose murmured, and we all three turned to look at her. She frowned defensively at us, shrugging a little. "What? I'm not allowed to speak?"

"Love, let's go up and get some dinner." Rory said, putting a hand on my lower back, and I saw Fred raise his eyebrows as I glanced back at where Albus was hitting the bludger. "Molly…" Rory said, and I heard the whining tone to his voice, effectively making my decision for me.

"I'll meet you up at the castle." I told him quietly, glancing back at him for just a beat before I turned away from Fred, Rose, and Rory, starting towards the pitch. I slipped through the team entrance, walking through and then stepping onto the actual field, and I walked about a third of the way down the field. I noticed that not everyone had left: the teacher's section was still half-full, and I saw a couple of parents there as well. And then I frowned up at the boy on his broom. "Oy, Potter!" I shouted up at him, putting my hands on my hips, and he gave the bludger another good smack before he looked down at me. The adults glanced towards us and I glared at them—what were _they _looking at?—before turning my critical gaze on Albus. "What in the name of _Gryffindor_ do you think you are doing up there?" Al frowned down at me.

"Molly, go away." Albus called back down at me. I pushed my hair out of my face, glancing back at the entrance to pitch before I looked back up at Albus. He frowned down at me.

"It's getting dark, loser," I called out, rather than leaving. "You have to come down." Albus was silent.

"You try to get rid of me like ninety percent of the time and then the singular time I want you to go away—" Al called down at me, frowning.

"I'm contrary like that," I said irritatedly, as the wind picked up, and my hair lifted in the wind, the hem of my shirt flapping a little. "Get your sorry arse down here, Albus, before the wind blows me away."

"I wouldn't want _that_," Albus said, grinning crookedly down at me, but that grin seemed dimmer. Albus headed towards the ground, letting the bludger sore lazily over his head as he got closer and closer to the ground. He landed later, and stepped off his broom, right in front of me. We stood there in silence for a moment before I worked up the courage to say what I needed to say: after all, I did owe Albus a peptalk.

"It's not your fault we lost." I said seriously. Al's expression darkened as he looked down at me, and he was frowning. His green gaze pierced my eyes for a long moment, but I refused to look away, or step back, despite the fact that we were standing quite close.

"I'm seeker." He said after a moment, his voice flat. "It's always my fault we lose." I frowned at him.

"Oddly enough, I thought when one played team sports, that usually means that team losses were a team effort." I murmured rhetorically. Albus sighed impatiently.

"Catching the snitch ends the game." Albus elaborated, running his hand through his hair, pulling off his Quidditch goggles. He shook his head out, and his hair settled into its perpetually messy state. His gaze avoided mine as he continued. "And wins the team who catches it 150 points. With a good enough seeker, games are short, and the team wins." He sighed shortly. "That game was far too long, and we lost by two hundred ninety points." He looked back up at me. "My fault." He echoed.

"Even my shaky grasp on Quidditch and why you idiots play it has left me with the knowledge of how the game works, thanks." I said dryly, then I sighed, feeling guilty as I saw a flash of _something _on Al's face. It bothered me that I couldn't just… read Albus, the way I could read almost everyone else on earth. But the moments of clarity I had on how he was feeling left me feeling more confused: I hadn't meant to make him feel bad. I let my voice soften as I continued. "You guys were losing by a lot because Duane Jordan was having an off day as keeper." I murmured, not moving my gaze. "It wasn't your fault. And if you caught every snitch, you'd be—I dunno, Oliver Wood, or his seeker equivalent." I shook my head slowly, once. "You'd not be at Hogwarts, that's at least certain." I swallowed bravely, straightening up a little with the discomfort of how intense this conversation. "But you know all of that." I said shortly.

"My dad's here." Albus admitted, his voice now emotionless as he cut me off. I raised my eyebrows—now this made sense. Mr. Potter had been a seeker during his time at Hogwarts—or at least, when he wasn't busy defeating Voldemort and saving the Wizarding World. It was hard enough being the son that looked exactly like him; I'd seen AL get crap for that, whether it was from well-meaning people who just wanted to stop to thank Mr. Potter for saving the Wizarding World or it was Rita Skeeter, the ancient woman who wrote in the _Prophet_ about the Potters. Trying to be a seeker when his dad had also been a seeker must have been just as pressure-inducing.

"Sucks to lose the game your dad's here for." I acknowledged, and as the wind picked up and blew my hair in my face, I tucked a few of the strands behind my ear. "But your dad's—" I swallowed my pride this once, letting myself continue to defend Mr. Potter, "he's seen you play elsewhere, Albus." My voice got soft on his name, and I didn't know why—I rushed on, lest he think something of it. "He won't judge you on this one experience."

"He was a fantastic seeker." Albus said quietly, looking down at me tiredly, and instinctively, I reached out and placed my hand on his arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"You're a fantastic seeker too." I told him softly, and Albus glanced away disbelievingly. I tapped AL's chest with my hand, forcing him to look back up at me, even as I let my hand rest on his chest, my other hand on his arm. I was touching Albus a lot, much more than I was usually comfortable with—but Albus didn't believe he was a good seeker, and I had to change that. "Albus, you know me, and I don't compliment people unless they've earned it." I said softly. "Believe me—Natalya Swann is only good because her sister is good, she doesn't have any of the passion for the game that you do."

"Passion for the game doesn't—"

"Passion for the game separates the good players from the great, Albus." I said, glaring at him but keeping my words and voice soft: I knew that he knew that what I was saying was true. "You didn't catch the Snitch one freaking game—" I shook my head. "You have more sense then this, Albus, I know you do. You're one of the best players out there. Don't let one game ruin your opinion of yourself."

Albus looked down at me seriously for a moment before smiling a little sadly, looking at me. "You're good at pep talks," He said softly to me, his green gaze intense on my blue one, and for a moment, we just stood there. "You're being awful nice to me, considering that we're not friends." He said with a wry smile. I allowed him a small, slightly sarcastic smile in return, dropping my hands from his arm and chest before putting them on my hips.

"I couldn't very well let you die out here, in the darkness, playing Quidditch with yourself." I said quietly, but I half-smiled at him. "And I might be able to rethink the friend thing." Albus sighed, shaking his head. He whistled appreciatively.

"You're something else, Molly Sienna Gale." He said softly to me, and I blushed. I was glad for the impending darkness, though: chances were, he couldn't see. He smiled sincerely at me after a beat. "But thanks." He glanced over his shoulder at three approaching figures: his father, his uncle and my legal guardian, and Professor Longbottom. "Since you're not talking to Dad, Uncle Ron, or Uncle Neville, you should probably head up to dinner," He said, glancing back down at me with a smile, and I smothered a smile, looking down. Al was running interference for me now.

"I'll see you in the Great Hall?" I said as I fell back a few steps.

"Only if Rory doesn't sucker punch me." Al said with a weak grin, and I rolled my eyes.

"Corner doesn't decide who my friends are." I said firmly. Albus straightened up, grinning outright now, and I felt a smile bloom on my own features even as I laughed a little at him.

"Hah, I _am_ your friend!" Albus called after me with a grin as I turned and walked away, laughing a little. I got as far as the door as the pitch before Al whooped behind me, and I couldn't stop myself: thirty feet away from him, I began to laugh so hard that I had to clutch at the pitch wall, before falling to my knees, my arms wrapped around my stomach as I laughed so hard I could barely breathe, tears of laughter gathering in my eyes.

For the second time in a week and a half, Albus Potter had made me laugh so hard I was crying.

God, was I in trouble.


	9. The Opposite of Adults

**The Opposite of Adults**  
_I once was a kid all I had was a dream_  
_Mo' money mo' problems, when I get it imma pile it up._  
_Now I'm dope, Wonderbread we can toast_  
_So fresh how we flow, everybody get their style from us._  
_I once was a kid with the other little kids_  
_Now I'm rippin' up shows and 'em fans goin' wild with us_  
_Tell mommy I'm sorry, This life is a party._  
_I'm never growing up._  
_—Chiddy Bang_

"I can't believe I have to write a freaking essay on my own mother and father…" Rose muttered irritatedly, as we sat on the floor of the Common Room, both of us surrounded by the variety of books we'd picked out on her parents, and my legal guardians. Normally, we wouldn't have been working on a Thursday, but this essay was massive. It required a boatload of research before we even began. It wasn't even due till November.

"It's technically only on your mum." I pointed out as I used my wand to flip a page in the book I was currently flipping through. "And Binns looked suitably sheepish at having to assign it, at least to my class…" I shrugged.

It'd been a week and a few days since the Quidditch game, and October had begun fairly uneventfully. Or sort of—Rory was trying out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, per Grace McClellan's orders. The tryouts were still going on, though: Grace was supposed to post the list by Sunday. But from what I'd heard, Rory and Albus were just going at it—which, frankly, wasn't helping the situation with all the stupid girls who hated me for dating Rory, now. But I continued to scare away the unsuspecting younger girls and Rory continued to have no interest in anyone but me, so we were fine, for the time being, even if the school wished otherwise.

After the Rory/Albus/Quidditch Situation, this stupid essay was a close second in terms of problems I had. Rose hadn't stopped whining about the actual content of the assignment, and thinking about it strictly, it was _kind _of inappropriate that we had to write it. Rose, Al and Fred were all related to Mrs. Weasley, and all three of them pointedly didn't like to talk about the Wizard War: Fred's namesake had died, and Al's grandparents had died in round one of the war against Voldemort. And aside from all of that, it was just kind of…awkward. Their parents were just their parents to them. Not saviors of the Wizarding World.

"Hey is this for the History of Magic essay?" Liam asked us, coming up beside us. I nodded, glancing up at him, and he sat down beside me, snatching one of the books—_Hermione's Headaches: the Trials and Tribulations of Hermione Jean Granger _by Rita Skeeter—before flipping through it lazily. "Is it weird writing something on your mum?" He asked Rose, glancing up at her. She nodded.

"I'm considering demanding the right to write about anyone else on the planet—" She muttered, as Liam flipped through the book. He glanced over the pages passingly, and I looked back to my own book. I got through half a page before Liam looked up at me. I ignored him for a beat before he slammed the book onto my lap, his finger pointing to a specific passage underneath a picture of Rose and me with her parents.

"Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are your legal guardians?" He hissed at me, frowning. Rose and I froze, glancing up at him, before I looked back down at what he was pointing to: _On August 19__th__, 2021, Hermione Weasley gained joint custody with Ron Weasley of Molly Sienna and Cormac Finley Gale, following an alleged incident of parental abuse against Molly when Cormac got his Hogwarts Letter._

My heart pounded in my chest, the sound of it roaring in my ears, and I grabbed the book from Liam. I read further down the page: _Molly and Cormac are the son and daughter of two muggles, and according to my sources at the Ministry, their case is being especially carefully handled, as everyone can remember the last time that the Weasley- and Potter-run Auror department dabbled in a child custody case: The Finnigans. They are not treating the case delicately, though, according to my Ministry insider: "Molly apparently blew a fuse when Mr. Potter told her about the removal of her and her brother from her parents' custody. She even drew her wand and tried to curse him and everything—" Molly Gale is the same year as Rose Weasley, the daughter of Ron and Hermione Weasley, at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry_._ It's said that Rose and Molly are best friends, according to sources at the school who wish to remain anonymous, and my anonymous source also tells me that Miss Gale has earned herself the love of several admirers. "Molly's a total ice queen, though—and she has no patience for boys who are just going to dote on her," My source told me confidentially in a letter. "She'd never give a second thought to a boy who wasn't getting top marks or on the Quidditch team." These remarks are, to say the least, unusual for the Potter-Weasley-Clan's previous charity cases: Serafina Finnigan is the darling of the Wizarding World, and Wesley Finnigan does pro-bono work for the Auror department and St. Mungo's. Sweet, thoughtful, children in bad circumstances, rather than Molly, the rude daughter of an abusive muggle—and more unusual yet, never before has Hermione Granger been involved in the charity cases. Rumors are, she's already staged a coverup for Miss Gale, who may have apparated and broken underage Wizarding laws in August._

_Has Ms. Hermione Granger jeopardized her morals for a girl like _Molly_?_

"Are you fucking with me…?" I muttered to the book, feeling my stomach turn over: how was this _in here_? This was—such a violation of my privacy, and Cormac's. "This reads more like a _goddamned gossip column _then a biography_—"_ I grabbed the book and, keeping the book mark with my finger, I turned it over, glaring at the back. An old woman with huge, ugly glasses and beady, watery eyes smiled manipulatively out at me from the back cover, and I glared down at her: who was this woman?

"How is that already in there?" Rose murmured, looking at me, frowning. "That happened in August…"

"So it's true?" Liam demanded, gaping at me. "Your legal guardians are—"

I dropped the book, diving at Liam and slapping my hand over his mouth, glaring angrily at him. "Liam Fitzroy, so help me _God_," I hissed slowly, making sure he understood the seriousness of the threat I was about to make, "if you have any sense in you _at all_, you'll shut up for once in your _sorry,_ _little_ life, or I will curse you so badly, you won't be sure which was is up." My voice was lethal, but effective: Liam glowered darkly at me, before he grabbed my hand and shoved it off his face.

"Fine." He muttered. I snatched my wand up from the floor, pointing it at him threateningly for a moment before I looked back down at the book, making sure that was the end of that passage, before I grabbed the top of the page and tore it out. I folded the paper neatly in half, then again, and then I lifted my wand and pressed the tip against the paper; it burst into flame. I let the paper levitate as it burned, ash dropping to the floor until I finally blasted it with my wand, annoyance grasping me, and it exploded with a muffled explosion. A couple of kids in the Common Room glanced towards us, but I threw them irritated, mind-your-own business glares, and Liam whistled long and low, impressed. "Jeezum, Molly, overkill much."

I ignored Liam, and Rose's concerned gaze, instead closing the book again and looking back down at the back of the book. _Rita Skeeter is Features Editor for the Daily Prophet, as well as the author of several best-selling novels and her daily gossip column in the Prophet. She is a mother of two and grandmother of three, as well as a well-respected judge of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award_.

"_She's also about to be murdered by Molly Sienna Gale_." I muttered irritatedly, mostly to myself. I looked up at Rose, and I saw her sigh at the obvious frustration on my face. "Does the name _Rita Skeeter_ mean anything to you?" I demanded quietly.

"My mum hates the bitch, but I don't know about much else." Rose said, shrugging. "She's always writing nasty things about my parents in the paper, like how she thinks Mum's always hooking up with uncle Viktor…" Rose rolled her eyes. "It's all nonsense, no one who has any brain in their head takes her seriously." She looked back at me, her blue gaze, lighter than my own blue eyes, filled with concern. "Molls, whatever she wrote, it doesn't matter." I shot her a dark look, partially for the nickname and partially for my complete lack of faith in her words. "She's some old coot—" I shook my head, glaring at her: Rose, shut up, I didn't want to talk about it. Rose frowned at me. "What could she possibly have said…?" She murmured, reaching across the ground for the book. I pushed myself to my feet, glaring at Rose and Liam and the people who were now glancing at me as I stood up.

"She called me one of your family's charity cases." I muttered as I passed Rose on my to the girls' dormitory. I took the stairs up, two at a time, around the spiral staircase and walking into our dormitory. I slammed the door shut behind me, walking over to my bed and sitting down with a sigh. I opened my dresser drawer and pulled out all the letters in there—the ones from Nate, and Ellie, and Mrs. Granger, who wrote me persistently though I'd yet to respond. And the one from my mother.

I lifted the envelope and flipped it over, running my fingers along the hem of the envelope for a moment before I dropped it on the bed, not opening it. I sighed in frustration as I fell back against the bed, glaring up at the ceiling of my room. I was such a fucking _chicken_—the worst case scenario, here, was that Mum had written something awfully mean to me. I shouldn't have been so reluctant to open that stupid letter.

_Nate wouldn't have forwarded the letter to me if it were anything but an apology,_ I tried to convince myself. And then the devil's advocate in my head refuted, almost immediately: _Nate might not have read it_. Nate was my partner-in-crime, my best friend, my little brother—he wouldn't have read my mail before forwarding it. He knew I trusted him, and vice-versa, of course. But neither of us abused that privilege. We weren't just siblings. He was, if Rose wasn't there, my best friend. He'd never have read my mail. Which meant that this letter was just for me.

But I still wasn't going to read it.

I closed my eyes, covering my face with my hands. I had to get some guts.

* * *

_Cal & Ellie, do NOT read this letter, there's another in here for you two._

_NATHANIEL ISAAC GALE, SO HELP ME GOD IF YOU GET IN ANOTHER FIGHT AND BREAK ANOTHER BONE IN YOUR HAND, I WILL COME BACK TO NOTTINGHAM MYSELF AND TRANSFORM YOU INTO A FREAKING CLOTHES HANGER._

_Cormac got into a bit of a tiff two weeks ago as well, with a boy the year above him. Just like how you got in a fight with a boy the year above _you, _since I remember that Scott Dixon was my year at school. So, darling brother, you have to behave better so I can tell Cory judgmental things like "Nate would kill you…" because obviously, Nate would not kill him if Nate has been doing the EXACT SAME THING._

_Get your ass back in line fast, Gale, lest I have to drag my sorry self back to our home. And if it comes to that, there will be no mercy, even if your hand is broken._

_-Molly_

* * *

_Dear Cal & Ellie_

_I miss you too! I'm sorry to hear that you heard Daddy and Nate fighting—next time that happens, just go downstairs and tell Nate or Daddy—they'll apologize and put you back to bed, I promise._

_Ellie, love, you _may not_ bite people. Under any circumstances. Even if they steal Cal's chess pieces. Cal's very good at talking to people when he wants to—the next time the girl steals Cal's chess piece or anything else, you have to let Cal talk it out with the girl, or bite him, or whatever—it's best not to try to defend Cal, I promise, Ellie. He can handle himself as long as it's just one of your classmates. If it's an older kid, go get Nate or that girl Sarah or a teacher. They'll take care of it._

_Maybe you'll be able to come to magicland one day… and maybe not. It depends on whether you were born magical or not—and it doesn't make you better or worse if you weren't or were. Besides, I think you both miss the other twin if only one of you were magical._

_Hugs & kisses,  
Molly_

_P.S. I'm going to try and stop by your Christmas pageant, guys, but I need to know the date and whether Daddy is going, okay? And if I need a ticket to get in, ask Nate for the money. I love you._

* * *

"Oh, no." Rose muttered as she, Rory and I stood in front of the bulletin board in the Common room two nights later. "No… c'mon, it's only October," She moaned. I leaned back against Rory, and he kissed my hair, his arms slipping around my waist.

"_On October 7, 2021, fifth year classes will be canceled as all students will have a meeting with Professor Longbottom regarding what OWLs they should focus on for their potential future careers_," Rory read aloud, and I pressed my lips together, before turning in his arms, pressing my face into his chest. Rory and I hadn't further discussed his issue with Albus, but he'd stopped arguing about it, so I was assuming that while the issue wasn't over, he'd realized he'd sounded like a child and that had to stop.

"They're not that bad," Rory interrupted my thoughts, and I looked up at him; he looked down at me, tucking a few strands of hair behind my ear. "As long as you walk in with a plan…"

"A plan?" Rose asked, turning to him.

"Y'know—what you want to do." He murmured, glancing up at Rose. "It doesn't have to be super specific but if there's an ideal job you want than that gives you something to talk about at least…"

"I want to be a blast-ended skrewt." Rose decided in a moan, covering her face with her hands and toppling into the armchair by the fire. Rory watched her go, before looking back down at me, his hand running through my hair before he let it rest on my back.

"I have no idea what I want to do…" I told him quietly, lifting my hands to rest them against his chest. I began to trace the Gryffindor emblem on his chest with the tip of my index finger. "I could…wait tables, at the Leaky Cauldron," I suggested, slowly coming around the bottom of the emblem ad starting back up the left side, "or I could be an Unspeakable," my finger jumped inside the lion, and Rory groaned, grabbing my hand away from his chest and pulling me flush against him.

"Oy, could you stop teasing me in the middle of the bloody Common Room?" He suggested in a rough voice, and I smirked, before bouncing up onto the balls of my feet, and pressing my lips to his for just a moment; he kissed me back, his arms tight around me and his lips working against mine.

"Where would the fun be in that?" I whispered as I pulled away. Rory cursed under his breath, his forehead touching mine, but before he could launch into a real scolding, the portrait hole opened and revealed the rowdy Gryffindor Quidditch team. They were all clad in their red robes and trailing behind an angry-looking Grace McClellan.

"Grace, I'm not even fucking with you—" Albus was talking low and fast to her as he followed her across the room, but I could pick his voice out anywhere: his incessant need to chatter at me kept me well aware of what his voice sounded like. "You can't just let him on—he's not even half-decent, Lily is better than him—"

"Excuse me?" Lily Potter demanded, catching up with her brother angrily, but Albus flapped an impatient hand at her.

"I'm letting him on the team, Albus, I printed it on the paper with my wand, the robes with his name on it have been ordered—it's done." Grace muttered, pushing her hair out of her face, flustered. She walked past Rory and I to slap the paper in her hands on the board, before she stabbed it viciously with her wand, and it stuck there. She turned around, caught sight of Rory, who was looking at her over my head now, and I saw her force a smile. "Nice job, you made the team." Grace said with a grin, and Rory grinned at her. I glanced at Albus, my small smile fading a little as he met my gaze with his own angry one: was it just me, or did it seem like Albus got a lot angrier this year? In previous years he didn't give a care about everything; suddenly, this year, he was Mr. Teenage Angst.

"Great, thanks," Rory said with a grin for Grace, who waved her hand at him.

"Not a problem, you were a fantastic beater, and we really needed one…" Grace said, flashing him an easy grin. "Seriously, you're saving me here—I've been working James & Fred harder than anything and now I can finally give them a break." She shook her head, glancing back at James, who gave one of his rare grins to Rory: the older Potter was one of Rory's roommates, and they were pretty close friends. Rory pulled me against his chest tightly as he grinned, and I looked up at him, smiling a little as I put my hand over the Gryffindor patch on his robes and stood on tiptoe. I pressed my lips to his as my arm slid up, around his neck, and Rory's hand slid down to my lower back.

"Molly, my love, my lady, perhaps we could _not_ snog the kindly Mr. Corner in the middle of the Common Room," Fred said behind me in an exaggeratedly dramatic voice, and I pulled away from Rory, feeling an embarrassed blush creep up my face. I ducked my face into the front of Rory's robes, and I could practically feel his resentful glare at Fred, while I stuck out a hand to flip my middle finger at Fred. I let my face cool briefly in his robes before I pulled away and looked up at the Quidditch team, who were still standing there. Albus was frowning seriously at me, but I just met his gaze defiantly. He had _no right_ to be angry.

Beside him, Fred was grinning like the huge idiot he was, but he was obviously trying to restrain it, probably for Al's benefit. Rory followed my gaze to Albus and I thought for a moment that he was going to say something to Albus, but Sera stepped forward, putting a hand on Rory's free arm & capturing his attention before he could get a word out.

"Rore, we've got to go—prefect rounds, remember?" Sera said lightly, her gaze flicking to me, and I realized, suddenly, that she had seen as well as I had that Rory was about to snap at Albus.

"I'll see you later, love," Rory murmured to me, and I squeezed his hand, offering him half-a-smile in return. Rory kissed me—a little longer than he usually did when he was just leaving for a while, his hand on my lower back—and it occurred to me in a heartbeat that this was a possessive kiss. I pulled away after a moment, keeping the half-smile on my face, but Rory could tell from the moment he opened his eyes again that I was less than pleased.

"Possessiveness isn't flattering, Rore," I kept my voice low, so no one but Rory and maybe Sera could hear me, and Rory released me with a stony expression. He glanced at Sera before looking back down at me, and then he exhaled shortly.

"Your choosing to spend more and more time with Albus isn't particularly flattering either, Molly." Rory murmured, and I narrowed my eyes at him, dropping any pretense of a smile. Rory raised his eyebrows. "Let's go, Sera," Rory pulled away from me, throwing Albus a warning glare over his shoulder as he walked away, and when he glanced at me, I scowled darkly at him. He looked back forward, and I dropped my gaze to the carpet, wrapping my arms around my stomach uncomfortably.

"What was that about?" Albus asked me with a frown as he crossed to me, and I glared up at him, dropping my arms before pushing my hair out of my face with a frustrated sigh.

"You putting up a fit that Rory's on the Quidditch team isn't helping me out, much." I told him irritatedly. "He's bothered that I even spend time with you—" I shook my head, glaring angrily up at him. Albus's eyes widened, his eyebrows shooting up. Fred came up beside us, looking wary; he could see that I was already pretty angry.

"Rory has a problem with you spending time with me?" Albus said after a second, sounding angry.

"Yeah, as it turns out, you bring out a little of the asshole within him." I said irritatedly, not looking away. "The same with him & you—you're barely tolerable with each other." I shook my head. "Idiots. I'm surprised I waste my time with either of you." I growled.

"You said that Corner didn't decide who your friends were." Albus muttered defensively, glaring down at me, but the anger had drained from his voice and face; Albus was never angry for very long, at least. I, however, was just getting started. "And since he's the one with the problem—"

"You act like he killed your cat every time he's in earshot!" I hissed. "Like _hell_ he's the only one with the problem—"

"So you think _I'm_ the one with the problem?" Albus demanded raising his eyebrows.

"Maybe that's just because you've taken a talent to scaring away my boyfriends and Rory doesn't want to be next—" I hissed at him, and Albus blushed furiously. "He told me you scared away Mikey—after you heard me talk about how I thought Mikey must _hate_ me, how I thought there was something wrong with me because he'd dumped me after a freaking week, and you said _nothing_—"

"I _told_ you that there was nothing wrong with you." Albus growled at me, his eyes lethal as he took a step forward, and it occurred to me that he'd not been blushing—he'd flushed with anger. Albus and I were standing toe-to-toe now, and I glared up at him, frustrated. "And I fucking stand by that, because the problem here, isn't you. It's _him_." Albus spat the word like a curse, his gaze piercing mine and we just stood like that for a moment, that close, before I spoke.

"What the fuck are you doing to me, Albus?" I demanded of him, my voice quiet. "Rory's my boyfriend." I shook my head. "If you want to be my friend—really, really be my friend, like you keep on claiming—then for God's sake, _act like it_." Albus scoffed, looking exasperatedly up at the ceiling of the Common Room for a moment before looking back down at me, pushing his black hair off his forehead.

"I'm being a friend when I tell you that he doesn't deserve you even for a second." He told me angrily, and I swallowed. "Rory's nice, fine. But he's boring as hell and not that great a beater and he wears that prefect badge like he's the new Minister of Magic rather than just some stupid kid who had no fun the first four years he was at Hogwarts just to get the privilege to berate—"

"You are stepping over like twelve different lines here." I hissed at him, cutting him off. "You have _no right _to stand there and trash my boyfriend when you're no Mr. Perfect." I turned on my heel and walked away, and behind me, I heard Albus swear, loudly. I flipped him my middle finger, not even glancing back, before I sank into the armchair beside where Rose had sat down. Rose was still sitting there, except she was watching me carefully. I glared at her, and she raised her eyebrows.

"You're not mad at me." She reminded me quietly. I felt the glare fade from my features, and I scrubbed at my face, glancing back across the Common Room at Albus, who was ranting out of earshot to Fred.

I looked back up at my best friend before confessing in a quiet voice: "I don't think I'm even mad at him."

* * *

Three days later, I was sitting (or really, sulking) in front of Professor Longbottom's office with the rest of my year, waiting for our Career Counseling meetings. Albus and I hadn't spoken in the three days since our fight (if you could even call it that) but Rory and I had made up; Rory had apologized, and I'd accepted that apology. I wasn't stupid enough to believe that he trusted Albus to not try to scare him off, but I knew that he was at least willing to act like an adult about it. But my not speaking to Albus was screwing up the way my day worked: Fred and Albus had become part of my circle, sort of, since beginning school, even if the two of them did annoy the bajeezus out of me, and without them, it was back to just Rose and me. Which was boring.

More boring yet, though, was this Career Counseling thing. All the fifth years had to wait in line the entire day for one meeting with Longbottom. This was ridiculous. And we had to line up alphabetically by last name—which meant that while I was early in the line (yay!), I wasn't sitting next to anyone good. Rose and Fred were beside each other (both of them were Weasley) and Albus was beside Mikey, because Mikey was Palahntuk and Al was Potter. But I was between Liam (Fitzroy) and Celia (Goyle). And I'd been avoiding Liam since he'd read that Rose's parents had custody of me, and Celia was just annoying. So sitting between them put me in a bit of a tight spot.

"I can't believe we have to have this stupid Counselling thing." Celia muttered after we'd been sitting there for two hours, and only eleven kids had gone. "I already know what I'm doing, I don't need some half-batty professor telling me what I should be doing."

Celia Goyle was fairly pretty, for so irritating a girl. Her hair was cut short and jet black, and she always pinned a bit of it back with a barrette that looked like it belonged to a six-year-old: small with a green and silver bow on it. Her eyes were hazel and her expression was always that of someone who'd just seen something disgusting, like a spider—or maybe she just wore that expression around me. I wasn't stupid, I knew she probably shared the same purebloods-are-better beliefs as her father.

"Longbottom isn't half-batty," I growled at Celia. I wasn't too keen on Professor Longbottom since he'd told me he thought I was messing up Cory, but Longbottom was my head of house. He trumped Celia Goyle any day.

"At least he's not the biased old coot Gilbert is…" Liam chimed in from beside me, referencing the head of Slytherin, leaning forward to flash Celia a sarcastic smile, and Celia sneered at him.

"Gilbert's sensible, not biased." Celia said, rolling her eyes at Liam.

"If sensible means as elitist as Daddy Dearest then yes, I agree." I said easily, leaning back in my chair as if I were comfortable, and Celia glared at me.

"Don't talk about my father." She muttered.

"Then don't talk about my head of house." I retorted, and Celia fell silent. I sighed, closing my eyes and leaning my head back against the wall.

"I have no idea what I'm supposed to be saying to Longbottom." Liam muttered after a second beside me, and I opened my eyes to squint at him: Liam and I weren't friends, and yet here he was, talking to me. What _was_ it with this school year? First Albus, then Fred, then Rory, and now Liam. Why couldn't everyone just—remember to not talk to me? Life was so much freaking easier when I'd been just as ignored ever.

"You could tell him you wanted to be a Cornish Pixie when you grow up." I told him in an overindulgent voice, as if he were a little kid. Maybe if I got him angry—which, frankly, it wasn't hard to do with Liam—he'd get the idea that I wasn't too into chatting with him.

"What do you want to be?" Liam demanded, ignoring me and blatantly stomping on my attempt to alienate him. I shrugged, not answering his question.

"I've got a couple of things in mind." I said vaguely.

"Helpful." Liam said irritatedly, rolling his eyes. _That was the point, _I growled mentally, but Liam seemed undaunted by my obvious disinclination to talk to him, so he continued. "Anything more specific?"

"None of your business," I said through gritted teeth. What planet could Liam possibly be from that he wasn't picking up on these signals? Liam and I weren't friends for a reason; we were both too hot-headed. He got mad too fast and I was too angry at everyone for not minding their own business. Together it was only a matter of seconds before we spontaneously combusted.

"Interestingly enough, Molly, me asking you what you want to do with your life in general isn't _that _big a deal." Liam pointed out, and I glared at him, before looking straight ahead. "Mol-_ly_," Liam whined, but I heard the deeper irritation in his voice: he was close to giving up. Despite Liam and I sharing our general anger with the world, he gave up faster than I did, and hadn't held a grudge insofar as I remembered. I, on the other hand, was more stubborn than a Swedish Short Snout, and I could hold a grudge until the end of time.

"Why do you even care? You can't stand me, most of the time." I pointed out quietly. Liam shrugged a little uncertainly, and I narrowed my eyes at him. "Liam." I said plaintively.

"Well I was kind of hoping for ideas—my mum's a muggle and she's the one who raised me so I've actually not got much of an idea of what Wizarding adults do other than be Harry Potter…" Liam said with a sheepish smile. I raised my eyebrows.

"I'm muggleborn too, so not much help from me…" I pointed out, and I heard Celia scoff disgustedly. I turned to smile faux-charmingly at her. "Got something to add, Celia darling?" I asked, and she rolled her eyes, looking away from me and crossing her legs in the other direction. I snorted elegantly before looking back at Liam.

"You're muggleborn?" Liam asked, frowning confusedly at me. "I thought…you and Rosie are best friends from before school, weren't you?" He asked; I blinked. Did everyone just assume Rose and I were best friends from before us starting at Hogwarts? Why? It was no wonder we were best friends—we were the only two girls in the Gryffindor our year. We were either going to wind up best friends or mortal enemies. And Rose had some annoying qualities, but certainly not enough to make me hate her. Besides—at the end of the day, she was awfully trustworthy.

"Nope. Born and raised in Nottingham by a computer programmer and a secretary." I told him frankly, and Liam raised his eyebrows.

"But if you've not known Rose since before we started Hogwarts, why do Rose's parents have custody of you after the—" He asked after a second, frowning, and in the half a sentence he got out, I immediately grabbed his arm and dug my nails into him.

"I told you not to say anything about that to anyone." I hissed at him, narrowing my eyes instantly. Liam glared at me, straightening up. "And more than that, it's not any of your fucking business who has custody of me."

"Get your _hand_ off my _arm_, _Gale_—"

"Shut your fucking mouth, _Fitzroy_—"

"Liam Fitzroy." Professor Longbottom called out, from the doorway to his office, as the girl who'd gone before Liam left, clutching a few papers. I released Liam and he pinched me as he rose to his feet. I glared at him, muttering a knot-tying curse: his shoes untied themselves, then tied themselves together. Liam stumbled, then fell to his knees, causing an eruption of laughter. He swore under his breath as he got to his feet, flashing me a glare before he slipped into the office. Longbottom raised his eyebrows at me, and I smiled politely at him; he sighed heavily, before following Liam into his office.

I sank back in my chair, resigning myself to silence for however long it took Liam to talk to Longbottom, but Celia ruined that. "So." She said, and as I turned to her, I realized she was grinning like a Cheshire cat. That wasn't good. I just glared at her, though. "You're legally one of the Weasels, now, hmm?" She asked.

Oh, shit.

I pulled my wand from my robes and, in a heartbeat, I had it pointed at her, my glare merciless. "Celia, you will not say a word about this or so help me God—"

"Your muggle parents get tired of having such a freak for a daughter?" Celia demanded with a cruel smile, completely ignoring my glare, and I felt this situation slip out of my grasp. "What happened? Did they kick you out?"

"I wonder if your parents ever get tired of having such a bitch for a kid." I retorted in a hiss. Celia raised her eyebrows: my lack of response was all the answer she needed. "Suppose it's to be expected, though—wasn't your father a _death eater_?" Celia flinched at this, but fell silent, and I relaxed. "I thought so." I growled, sitting back in my chair. Celia and I stared forward, glaring at the wall across the hall.

"He served his time," Celia began, glaring at me, her voice low as she broke our minute-long cease fire. I almost flinched at her words; I didn't want to have this conversation with her. "He got the stupid tattoo blasted off his arm, and got a job on the up & up at the Ministry." Celia continued angrily, and I stared stonily across the hall. "What would make it better?" She asked me rhetorically. "Exactly how much does my dad have to give before he's forgiven?" She glanced at me, her eyebrows drawn together angrily. "He spent seven years in Azkaban. That's a hell of a price to pay for no forgiveness."

"Well, you obviously think my parents are worthless and they've done nothing wrong." I pointed out quietly, looking at her irritatedly. Yes, yes, Poor Celia and her unforgiven death eater father. But she was walking around thinking that muggles were the worst and purebloods were the best. She couldn't have it both ways, where her father was blameless _and_ still believed that crap.

Celia and I fell silent, this time for longer; my gaze dropped my wand, which was in my hand, resting on my lap, and I played with it, looking down at it. My wand was short—only nine and a quarter inches, with a liquid core, though I'd long since forgotten what was inside. The wood was black walnut, with a ridged handle that had worn down a little from where I usually held it. I loved my wand—I'd bought it with Professor Longbottom in August before my first year, after he'd come to tell me that I was a witch. Usually parents took you, but Dad had packed up my family after he'd found out what I was and taken all of them on vacation. I remembered that Longbottom had tried to talk him down—but it hadn't worked, obviously. Dad returned a week and a half later with all the kids in tow; I'd been staying with Longbottom's somewhat frightening grandmother because he hadn't been sure what to do with the kid whose parents had so obviously ditched her. Mum had come by when they came back to pick me up, and when I got home, Dad wasn't talking to me. He didn't speak a word to me until I came home for Christmas that year.

"Molly Gale," Professor Longbottom said easily from the doorway to his office, and Liam walked out, shooting Longbottom a glare, then me. I just glared back at him, pushing myself to my feet and stalking past Liam, shooting him a sarcastic half-smile as I slipped into Longbottom's office. Longbottom closed the door behind him as he followed me in, and I sank into the chair in front of his desk. Professor Longbottom walked around his desk. He sat down in his chair behind the desk and flashed me a sympathetic smile. "How have you been?"

"Fine." I said flatly, meeting his gaze evenly. I wasn't letting Longbottom off the hook for what he'd said last time we'd met.

"That's good." Professor Longbottom said easily. "And Cormac?"

"He's fine." I said stonily. Longbottom looked at me apologetically.

"I'd like to apologize for what I said." He said quietly. "About you being a bad influence on your brother." I said nothing, and Longbottom continued. "You're trying, I know you are. I can't imagine being you." He smiled a little. "I went home that night, after I scolded you, and my grandmother asked after you—she was quite fond of you, you know—and I mentioned what had happened that day, and how I'd responded to it." He sighed quietly, folding his hands on his desk. "She must have yelled at me for forty five minutes." He smiled ruefully.

"Why?" I asked after a second, frowning a little.

"Because, as she pointed out to me, I was awfully hard on a fifteen-year-old girl whose brother respects her enough not to talk back to her." Longbottom said quietly. I pushed my hair out of my face uncomfortably. "So I'm sorry." I regarded him for a long moment—Longbottom was irritating, but usually genuine. He wouldn't have apologized unless he meant it.

"It's fine." I said quietly.

"Thanks." Professor Longbottom said with a kind smile. "So, Molly, on to the point of the meeting: OWLs are coming up at the end of the year, and I was wondering if you had any plans for your future?" He asked this question as if it were just another stupid question, some trivial fact I should have known. But I didn't know where I was living next summer. So my big-picture future was kind of questionable to say the least.

"I'm not entirely sure." I said quietly. I shot him a bitter, half-smile. "Of course, I'm also not entirely sure where I'm going to be living when I'm not at Hogwarts, so my career is the least of my worries right now, isn't it?" I kept my voice quiet, but Longbottom smiled slightly at me.

"Kind of awful world we live in that you're not the first kid to say that to me." Longbottom murmured, rubbing his forehead. "Look, Molly, you have legal guardians for a reason. Where Ron and Hermione Weasley live, you live. They take care of you. You have a monthly allowance, in so far as I am aware." He smiled a little. "They're not just there in name. I know Ron and Hermione want you to talk to them, get closer to you."

I stared at Professor Longbottom for a long moment. "I have parents, you know. My mum wrote me a letter, even." I swallowed. "They love me." I sounded like a toddler, but I was already too far gone to care.

"I know that, sweetheart," Professor Longbottom said gently. I flinched at his tone, wrapping my arms around my stomach as I tried, physically and mentally, to hold myself together. "I think your dad's scared of magic, Molly. And from what I hear—especially from Hermione and Harry, both of whom you talked to the night your dad kicked you out—it's blinded him." Professor Longbottom leaned forward. "But the beauty of Hogwarts, of this whole Wizarding world that is separate from your parents—what your dad thinks doesn't have to matter, here." He smiled a little at me. "I know the night that your dad kicked you out seems like the end of everything, Molly." He was holding my gaze, sounding completely trustworthy. "But it doesn't have to be. Cormac and you have a real chance with Ron and Hermione." He sighed. "You've got to take a leap of faith with the Weasleys and let yourself get comfortable with them."

I stared at Professor Longbottom across the desk. How this conversation had gotten this serious this quickly stunned me. But now we were here. And as much as it made me uncomfortable to admit it, out of all the screwy adults in my life, I trusted Professor Longbottom. He was always honest with me, and he had never done anything malicious—even what he'd said about me screwing up Cormac had been in Cory's best interest. Anyone who worked in my brother's best interest was certainly my ally. And what he was offering was freaking tempting—letting Mr. and Mrs. Weasley be the grownups. Letting myself relax.

But I had something left at home. I couldn't leave Nate and Cal and Ellie and Mum and Dad. Even if it would be easier. I couldn't do it. "I want to." I told him after a second, a lump in my throat as my voice got hoarser. "I want to be just—one of them." I swallowed. "But I can't. My family's still my family, and no matter how stupid my dad acts, he's still my dad. I can't leave them." I shook my head, and Professor Longbottom sighed, leaning back in his chair.

"Alright, sweetheart." He said softly. I watched him warily as we sat there, silently. "Do you ever hear from your family, other than that one letter from your mother?" He asked me quietly. I nodded, but didn't speak; I'd talked too much already about my home life—said a lot I hadn't meant to. I was going to shut up now. "You're done talking." He assumed aloud, and I nodded, giving him a half a smile: I was getting too predictable. Professor Longbottom opened the drawer to his right and pulled out a packet of papers, sliding it across the desktop. "Alright, well, Molly, I'm going to give you an aptitude test—please take it before we meet again in January." He smiled at me. "If you'll send in Celia…"

"Sure." I murmured, grabbing the papers from the desk. I stood up, before I looked seriously at Professor Longbottom. "I'm not going to lie to you, I think I'm in far over my head here, and I am all too aware that anyone with eyes can see that." I told him quietly, and I saw my professor raise his eyebrows. "But I hope you know that I'm still the end of the line with Cormac. No matter who our legal guardians are, no matter my family's state at the time—I'm going to make whatever decision I think is right regarding Nate, Cory, Cal, and Ellie. They're my siblings and my responsibility. And if I think Cory would benefit from living with Mum and Dad over holiday, than that's my choice. There is not a person or a court in the world that could take that choice away from me."

"I'll pass that on to Ron and Hermione." Professor Longbottom murmured. I nodded, before I turned, exiting the office.

So that hadn't gone the way I wanted it to. But at least everyone knew my priorities now.

My family came first.

* * *

**A/N:** sooo this is late and i sincerely apologize for that, but i've had one hell of weekend. Good news prevails though: I'm out on Christmas break from my school for the next two weeks, & the Philadelphia Eagles (an American football team for any of my readers outside of my general area) won tonight in this amazing play... anyway, it was an awfully nice conclusion to an otherwise crappy weekend. so i finished up this chapter.

thank you to all of my reviewers from last chapter... _NotADreamYetNotANightmare, Hushpuppy22, KaitlynEmmaRose, Molivline, Skittles31 _and _sInGiNg In ThE rAiN_. You guys make my day :)


	10. Little Lion Man

**Little Lion Man  
**_"Rate yourself and rake yourself,  
Take all the courage you have left.  
Waste it on fixing all the problems that you have made in your own head.  
But it was not your fault but mine,  
And it was your heart on the line.  
I really fucked it up this time,  
Didn't I, my dear?  
-Mumford & Sons_

"This. Class. Is. Ridiculous." I growled out as Celia and I leaned over our divination books in class, glaring down at the words on the page that didn't make _any sense_. "Whoever published this book is a complete lunatic, and the fact that we paid actual money for this—this—_bullshit_ shows how pathetic we are…" I shook my head in disgust.

"I'm not usually such a fan of you, but I have to agree on that." Celia muttered irritatedly.

We were supposed to be researching the meanings of our names, with Trelawney (the ancient and stubborn and COMPLETELY BATTY divination teacher) swooping around the classroom to help us. But in so far as I could tell, only a couple of kids were taking it seriously. And I was not among them.

In the four days since the career meeting, Albus and I hadn't exactly made up, but we'd also spoken to each other in the most casual of contexts, and I now allowed Rose to drag me over in his and Fred's direction when we were looking for a place to sit in the Common Room. So we were somewhere closer to being back to our usual bickering selves. More importantly, though—Celia had yet to say anything to anyone about my change in custody. I had no idea why she wasn't saying anything to anyone about it, but I wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Of course, look how well that turned out for the Trojans.

I also hadn't heard yet from my brothers and sister, but I assumed that was because Nate was mad at me because I'd scolded him via letter. We were best friends, but I was still obligated to scold him when he acted like an idiot. And every once and a while, he got that reminder when I had to yell at him. But he'd forgive me soon enough and we'd be back on our letter-writing way.

His birthday was in three days, and I'd not sent off a birthday gift: I wanted to get home, just for the night. I hadn't asked in previous years, if I could just leave the castle for two hours or so—I wanted to meet up with him at the diner across from his school. I knew Dad was serious about not letting me back in the house, so I wouldn't be able to get there for his actual birthday dinner, but I could buy him a cupcake and sing _happy_ _birthday_ to him loudly and out of tune and then mess up his hair. And, really, that was the true meaning of birthdays.

"Celia means _heaven_." Celia read aloud beside me, and I snorted in laughter.

"Well we know that's not true." I muttered, earning myself a glare from her. I flipped through the pages of my divination book, eying the pages before I finally got to the Ms. _Moishe, Mojgan, Mokosh, Momchil, Momoka…_ "Molly isn't here." I said irritatedly, glaring down at my book. "Who has ever named their kid _Momoka_?" I demanded after a moment, looking up at Celia. "_Momoka_ is in here, but not _Molly_?"

"Miss Gale," Professor Trelawney said dramatically as she swept over to Celia's and my table. Celia and I looked up at Trelawney warily, though as it became clear that she'd just settled on me. "How has your name meaning quest gone? Do you understand yet, how your name has transformed who you are? Your names dictate your sense of self—" I was already shaking my head, and she fell silent. She glared at me while I heard Fred sniggering at one table away. The class had fallen somewhat silent, as they always did when Trelawney began to speak; we all wanted to hear what absolutely absurd thing she said next.

"My name isn't in here." I said flatly, sliding the book towards her across the table. She nodded understandingly.

"Well, that's understandable… with a name like _Molly_…" She declared. "So unusual." She turned around and went back to her desk, her odd, lilac cloak billowing out behind her like a bat.

"Molly's actually pretty common." Albus pointed out, looking amused. I glanced across the classroom at him, my gaze sharp, and he didn't meet my gaze; this had to have been the first time this year that he wasn't already looking at me when I looked at him. It was disconcerting. "My grandmother's name is Molly. And my cousin's." Albus shrugged.

"My grandmother _too_," Fred said, unable to resist this opportunity to act like an idiot. He turned to Albus, letting his mouth drop open as if shocked. "_No way_."

"Weird." Albus said, his eyes getting comically big as he looked at Fred. "You know what's weirder—my mum's last name was _Weasley_. Just like _yours_!"

"Maybe we're related." Fred muttered, his eyes wide.

"_No_, d'you think?" Albus demanded as if this were a scandal. Celia sighed in irritation while I ducked my head, a half-smile gracing my lips as Albus finally glanced over at me. He grinned at me, and I sighed, raising an eyebrow at him. His grin grew a little.

"Molly means _passionate_." She declared from the table, turning to me with a book several times thicker than my textbook and several years older, one of her spindly fingers holding her place on the page. Fred and a couple of kids chuckled a little at this, while I flashed them my meanest glare: all but Fred fell immediately silent. Fred, of course, didn't care. "Or… _rebelliousness _or _sea of bitterness_." That killed the class: everyone burst into laughter, and I scowled darkly at the kids nearest me—they didn't know me halfway well enough to laugh at the meaning of my name. Albus was cracking up at this, though, and I exhaled shortly, fixing my glare on my teacher. Professor Trelawney glanced up at me and I glared at her evenly. She seemed to not even notice, however, because looked back down at her desk, where she had her list of students. "Sienna." She murmured, turning back to the book and flipping through it. Oh, God. My middle name. Was she really doing this?

"_Sea of bitterness_—maybe there is some honesty to divination—" Celia murmured, and I kicked her under the table, glaring at her.

"I'll hex your book so the pages are glued together if you don't shut up." I threatened under my breath.

"Not _bitter, _are we, that my name means _heaven_ and your name means _sea of bitterness_?" Celia demanded with a sarcastic smile.

"Fuck off." I hissed at her angrily.

"You started this when you called my dad a death eater outside of Longbottom's office—" She growled at me.

"You called me a Mudblood, so I think _you_ started it—" I growled at her.

"Sienna means _red_, which is obviously translated as blood." Professor Trelawney proclaimed from the front of the classroom. "And your last name obviously means storm." She looked up at me with a pleasant smile, as if she'd just heard that the weather would be nice tomorrow. God, did I hate this woman. She looked around the classroom expectantly, before her gaze settled on Fred. "Mr. Weasley, perhaps you can tell me how Molly's name exemplifies her personality…?"

"That's not necessary." I said quietly, glaring at my teacher now, and she raised her eyebrows.

"Miss Gale, like the lethifold, you creep quietly and unseen until you have a lethal grip on your victim and then you impose your will." Professor Trelawney said, and I blinked. What the hell did _that _mean? "Mr. Weasley, if you please…"

"Pass." Fred snorted, earning himself a disapproving sniff from Professor Trelawney.

"Mr. Potter, then." Professor Trelawney said easily. I turned my angry glare on Albus, hating the panic that was clawing at my stomach—of all the people in this class I didn't want asked for insight into my character, it was Albus Severus Potter. Anyone else would just respond that I was a girl with anger-management issues who was somehow dating Rory Corner.

But Albus, despite my best efforts, had somehow caught on to the way I worked. And it made me antsy that he was now begin given this opportunity to share his knowledge.

"Her name is pretty self-explanatory," Albus said, rolling his head on his shoulders and making his neck crack: he was avoiding my gaze. "She's passionate in that she's a bit of a hot-head—"

"A bit?" Celia scoffed, and I turned to her.

"Watch yourself." I hissed at her.

"_And_," Albus cut back in, not glancing at us, though it was clear his tone was meant to tell Celia and I to stop talking, "she's not one to take things lying down. Once she gets something in mind that needs doing, she won't let it go." He smiled a little, and I saw Fred duck his head, then glance up at me: I avoided his gaze. Fred and I were thinking the same thing, however. "The storm thing is spot on, though, because she's unpredictable," He leaned back in his chair. "She's intense and unpredictable and, I think everyone agrees, has a touch of rebelliousness because I don't think she's straight off agreed with a single thing I've said all year…" He shrugged. "But she's a better person than an interpretation of her name would lead you to believe." No one in the class was speaking, now, and Albus turned to look at me, his gaze suddenly serious and burning into mine again. I met it evenly, but I exhaled shortly. What was I going to do with Albus Severus Potter?

* * *

_Molly—_

_I'm an idiot, I know. Scott was being a bigger idiot, if it matters. Anyway, I wanted to let you know—a couple of my friends are taking me to the diner across the street from our school after practice on Friday. I think I'm bringing Cal & Ellie because I actually started dating the neighbor girl who was picking them up for me… I don't know whether you get nights off of being a witch, but if you and Cory could come, that'd be nice._

_Miss you,_

_Nate_

* * *

"Who's that from?" Rory asked me quietly as we sat in the Great Hall the next day, eating dinner. I glanced up at him, before shrugging one shoulder, and looking back down at the plate. Rory sighed, before reaching across the table to tuck a few strands of stray hair behind my ear, and I gave him half a smile as I looked up.

"It's from my brother, he wants Cory and me to come to a birthday thing he's doing with his friends." I murmured, my smile getting more tense. "I don't think I can go, though…"

"When is it?" Rory murmured.

"Friday." I murmured, looking back down at the paper. Unlike the parchment I wrote Nate on, this was typed up, probably because of Nate's still broken hand, and had the letterhead of his school, just like all paper in the school; Lerner Preparatory Academy. It wasn't as fancy as it sounded—mostly it was just a really good school that Nate and I had gone to since we were six. I missed Lerner, though—or, I'd sentimentalized it in my brain. I'd had friends there, though. I knew Nate kept up with most of them, but I still missed them. And I missed being with Cal and Ellie and Nate all the time.

"You should ask Longbottom, but I'm sure he'll let you go." Rory said firmly, forcing me back to the present, and I looked up at him. Rory shrugged. "No reason not to."

"Maybe I will." I murmured, looking down at the paper. Rory sighed.

"You really miss them, don't you?" He murmured to me. I glanced up at him, my expression wary.

"That obvious?" I asked quietly. Rory nodded once. "Nate's only eleven months younger than me—so it's different, he's my best friend, my partner-in-crime, etc. With Cory and Cal and Ellie—they're all so young and so much younger than me that leaving them is or, in Cory's case, _was_ sad because I missed them growing up and becoming their own people, but with Nate…" I shrugged. "My best friend." I repeated.

"You're so lucky." Rory said with a small grin. "Conan and I can barely get along for spit—"

"That's a disgusting saying—"

"And he's so much older, so it's not like we can be best friends." He shrugged. "And Logan's so young that Conan pretty much just ignores him and I'm only of use when Dad wants me to babysit him." Rory continued, rolling his eyes. "God, you must have had to do so much babysitting—"

"I'm a masterful babysitter." I said with a serious nod. "But back up—did your parents name you _Conan, Roran _and_ Logan_?" I demanded, feeling a small, mocking grin on my face. Rory blushed, grinning as he nodded. "Hah, rhyming names. I thought I had it bad with my name—"

"I like the name Molly." Rory said with a smile, capturing my hand in his above the table. I squeezed it lightly.

"No—in Divination yesterday, crazy Trelawney told me what my name means and it wasn't particularly charming." I cracked a smile at him, and Rory raised his eyebrows. "Molly means Rebelliousness, Sea of Bitterness or Passionate." Rory snorted in laughter, and I released his hand to smack his arm. "Gee, thanks, boyfriend." I muttered pointedly.

"Sorry, sorry—" Rory said, holding up his hands in surrender, and I glared at him: he was still chuckling. Jerk. "No—look, it's not true, you know that. None of it."

"None of it?" I asked suspiciously, my eyes narrowed at him, and Rory raised his eyebrows, obviously trying to sense what I wanted him to say.

"I feel like there's definitely a right answer here and I'm missing it." He said, and I just held his gaze evenly. His denial was more absolute than Albus's had been—but that didn't make it better. Al had made the—extremely valid—point that I was stubborn as hell and had certain things on which I would not budge. And that could translate to passionate, in some contexts. Obviously Rory wasn't picking up on the same thing.

I exhaled shortly. "It's fine." I said after a moment, looking back down at the paper in my hands before looking up at Rory. "How's Quidditch practice been going?"

"Well." Rory said easily, grinning at me. "James is really helping me out with a couple of the plays." His grin faded a little. "Albus isn't behaving any better, though."

"He's not that bad." I muttered, shrugging, and Rory's grin disappeared. I straightened up, my eyes narrowing.

"Molls, not this again…"

"Stop calling me _Molls_—" I began, glaring. "And Albus is a pain in the ass, I'm the first to admit, but he's harmless and has—moments." Rory was just watching me, now.

"Don't tell me he's—whatever, _getting _to you or something." Rory muttered, leaning forward. I straightened up.

"What d'you mean _getting _to me?" I demanded, my eyes narrowing.

"What d'you think it means, Molly?" Rory snapped back, before he sighed shortly, running a hand through his dark hair, the anger dropping from his gaze in a heartbeat. "Merlin, Molly—I'm sorry, I know I must sound mental but he's bugging the bajeezus out of me, and he doesn't even try, for a second, to hide that he fancies you and hates me." Rory fixed me with a look. "He's annoying the bloody hell out of me on and off the Quidditch field and I'm taking that out on you and I'm sorry."

I studied him for a moment; Rory always sounded genuine in these moments of repentance, but he was turning into a repeat offender with this issue of his with Albus. And I wasn't one to have much patience with someone who said they were sorry and just did the same thing over again.

"It's fine." I murmured, looking back down at my plate. I felt the pressure of self-disgust as I eyed the letter from Nathanial again. I wasn't someone who had patience with people who weren't really sorry. I wasn't someone who stopped arguing with her boyfriend over her guy friends because she was tired.

But that was what I'd just done.

* * *

_I'm bored. _Rose scribbled on the edge of my paper in Herbology the next day.

_Congrats, I'm concentrating. _I wrote, glancing up at her. We were perched on stools, the class all taking copious notes on our respective plants. Herbology was the only class I allowed myself to be partnered with Rose with; she was distracting, but Herbology didn't require my full attention all the time, unlike Charms. Unfortunately, at this point, if I didn't take these notes properly, I was going to fail my next paper due in Herbology.

_Concentrating on watching our devils' snare germinate? That sounds positively scintalliting… _Rose wrote, and I snorted in laughter as she flashed me a grin, before pressing her quill to the edge of my paper again. _So are you and Rory hanging out Friday night or can I recruit you for help with my essay on my mum again…? _Rose was demanding more help than usual on this essay because she was sort of at a loss on how exactly she was supposed to write about her own mother in an acceptably objective essay. And that wasn't unreasonable—if anyone understood how hard it was to be objective about your family, it was me.

I sighed, glancing up at Rose before I responded: _I'm actually going to pop back home with Cory—it's Nate's birthday._

Rose blinked down at my paper for a moment before she looked up at me, her gaze serious and concerned. "Molly," She murmured, and I shushed her—I didn't want the rest of our class hearing, though a quick glance around the classroom told me that everyone was engaged in their own little conversation, or was actually paying attention (shocking!). "You—" She paused, obviously trying to think this through, and phrase it in a Molly-acceptable manner. Rose didn't have tact, but at least she knew that, and tried to avoid it when it was really important. "You can't go home. Your dad…"

"I'd meet up with Nate at the diner across from his school." I murmured, interrupting that train of thought; for me, now, I knew home was off limits, whether it was according to my father or to my friends. But the diner across from Nate's school—the same school I'd gone to until I was eleven—was close enough to home to count as something.

"And your dad wouldn't be there?" Rose double checked. I shook my head, glaring at her properly now. The only reason I was letting her quiz me like this was because she was my best friend. Anyone else on earth could try to do this, and I'd bite their head off. As it was, with Rose, I was seriously restraining myself.

"Dad works." I pointed out. "At a job. Which he has to be at in order to earn money."

"Thank you for explaining how a job works, I was confused." Rose said, rolling her eyes, but she still sounded worried when she spoke next, her voice doubtful. "Molly…" I fixed her with a look.

"I can take care of myself, Ro. I'm not worried about Dad being there, and even if he were—which he wouldn't be—that wouldn't stop me from going." I told her. Rose watched me for a moment, exhaling slowly.

"Molly, babe—you're my best friend, but…" Rose shook her head. "You're actually one of the stupidest people on the face of this lovely earth." She fixed me with a look as I scowled at her, then continued on, keeping her voice low. "I'm not even going to try the argument—that's _true_, by the way, even if you don't subscribe to it—that you should want to protect _yourself_ from your father by avoiding him." She paused for breath.

"Rose—"I began, keeping my voice low: I didn't want another one of these speeches.

"Molly, lemme finish," Rose muttered, glaring at me for a moment, but I just glared back at her; she relented, I did not. "Since you haven't listened to me or Albus or my mum or my uncle when we've said that _before, _I'm just jumping straight to the next argument in my repertoire: maybe that wouldn't stop _you_ from going, but it would stop _me_ from letting you go." I glared, sitting up properly as Rose said her words: I didn't need her or anyone else's approval. "And by letting you go," She continued, even as I straightened up, "I don't mean you'd need my permission in any situation. I just mean that, at some point, your well-being trumps whether or not you're mad at me, so at some point, I get to do something drastic to keep you from going." She pressed her lips together, making her mouth into a grim line, as she tucked a few strands of her scarlet hair behind her ear. "And unfortunately, you're forcing me closer and closer to the point where I feel like I'm protecting you from yourself, Molly."

I stared at Rose. This little speech was so drastically out of character for her—one of the things that had made Rose and I such great friends in the first place was that she knew that sometimes, I needed to be left alone on certain subjects. But here she was. Chatting to me about this as if she had any right to be.

But it was Rose. So maybe she _did _have a right. Or closer to one than anyone else.

"It's not home, it's just Nate, just a diner, just across from school. Dad will not be there. Mum will not be there. I'm not even sure Cal & Ellie will be there." I murmured, looking at her carefully. "Rosie, you've got to trust me with my own well-being. I'm not stupid enough to anger Dad on purpose and he _kicked me out_. He doesn't want to see me again, and I'm going to go to lengths to avoid him—but this entire thing is complicated by the fact that I leave a lot at home every school year and I can't just leave them."

Rose looked at me doubtfully for a moment before she looked back down at her own notebook. "Alright, Molly." She murmured. "I hope for your sake that you're telling the truth."

At the end of class, I packed up slowly, letting the rest of the class empty out intentionally as Rose caught up with a girl our year at Ravenclaw (I didn't even remember her name, so you can tell _we_ weren't great friends—it was Sofia, or maybe Sonia). Of course, Albus the Annoying decided to hang back, sitting himself down on Rose's stool in front of me.

"You and Rose were having a serious chat." He noted as I closed my notebook and slid it carefully into my bag. I glanced up at him.

"We were." I acknowledged quietly, as I grabbed my quill and tucked it to the side of my notebook.

"'Bout what?" He asked, and I glanced up at him, searching his expression for a moment.

"Magical things." I murmured. Albus raised his eyebrows, and I lifted my bag up, onto my shoulder. "And before you ask for a better answer, it's none of your business, so you won't be receiving one." I straightened up, giving him an impatient frown.

"Your face will get stuck like that." He told me with an easy grin, and as I tried to pass him, he fell into step with me, slinging an arm around my shoulders.

"You're incorrigible." I told him easily as I carefully removed his hand from my shoulder and put it back to his side. I glanced up at Longbottom, who was sitting behind his desk, scribbling on some papers, before looking back to Albus. "I have to talk to Longbottom about something, so piss off, Potter."

"You are such a _charmer_." Albus decided. "And what d'you want to talk to him about?"

"Albus, _learn to mind your own freaking business._" I growled at him, shoving him towards the door, and Longbottom looked up at us.

"But where would be the fun in that…?"

"ALBUS!"

"Now, now, shouting seems unfair."

"Albus Severus Potter, I'm going to hex you so hard—"

"Molly, please stop threatening Albus." Professor Longbottom said, sounding mildly amused as he raised his eyebrows. "And Albus, perhaps you could learn to give Molly a touch more personal space…?" Albus just grinned at his uncle, and Longbottom shook his head.

"Can I talk to you about something professor?" I asked, and Longbottom nodded. I looked pointedly at Albus, and he smiled angelically at me.

"Albus, kid, get out." Longbottom said firmly to Albus, who chuckled, but strode easily towards the doors. He flashed me a grin at the door before slipping outside, and threw the glass-pane walls of the greenhouse, I saw Fred waiting for him. I cracked a half a smile as Fred nodded to me through the glass, before starting up towards the castle with Al. I turned back to Longbottom. "You've gotten close to them recently, hmm?"

"No." I said, the smile dropping from my features, shooting him a flat look. He laughed briefly.

"Alright, whatever you say—what'd you want to talk to me about?"

I hesitated. I had to word this carefully. "I want to meet my brother Nate on Friday around five PM—at a diner across from our old school. With Cory. It's Nate's birthday—he's turning fifteen—" I exhaled at the serious expression on Longbottom's face. "Dad and Mum won't be there."

"You're sure they won't be there?" Longbottom asked. I nodded. "Well, I'll talk to Hermione and Ron to see whether they're alright with you doing it, but that doesn't sound like a problem at all."

I smiled a little at Longbottom. "Thanks."

"No problem—is that all?" I nodded. "You'd better get going then, or you'll miss History of Magic." I nodded, turning and leaving the greenhouse.

I was seeing my family soon.

* * *

Two days later, I was standing in my dorm room, in front of the full length mirror on the wall that Rose and I shared. I slipped on my shirt, glancing in the mirror to make sure I looked acceptably muggle in my dark skinny jeans and the t-shirt that Rose had given me for my last birthday: it was white with the word _Sinner _scrawled across the front. Rose had a matching one that said _Saint_. It was done with a touch of irony, though neither of us really exemplified the word _Saint_.

I grabbed my shoulder bag and Nate's gift—a bag of candy that could get him out of school by giving him a fever or something for an hour or so and a sweatshirt with a Gryffindor Lion on it; Nate had told me he wanted something like that.

I slipped down the steps of the girls' dormitory, grinning as I spotted Cory waiting anxiously at the bottom of the stairs. "We're gonna be late!" Cory moaned anxiously the second I was in earshot, and I snorted in laughter. Since I'd told him we were going to see Nate, Cormac had been bugging me about it every second of the day. Thank goodness I'd had the foresight only to tell him the day before: I'd only had twenty four hours of needless bothering.

"Alright, alright, let's go." I said with a grin, looping an arm around Cory's arm and hugging him against me: he stiffened awkwardly, pulling back.

"_Molly…"_ He groaned. I chuckled, releasing him, and he bounced nervously beside me as I glanced around the Common Room. Rose was sitting beside Albus at one of the tables, flipping through a book on her mother. A couple of feet behind them, Rory and Louis Weasley, one of his roommates were playing Exploding Snap. I crossed to Rory, dragging Cormac along behind me, and he grinned at me, standing up.

"Like your shirt," He said when I reached him, and I rolled my eyes, but released Cormac to loop my arms around Rory's neck, and his arms slid warmly around my waist

"Of course you do—I'll be back before dinner so don't eat without me, okay?" I murmured to him, running a hand through his hair.

"Fine, love," He murmured, and he kissed me lightly, for just a moment or two before I heard Cormac faking gagging noises behind me, and I pulled back from Rory, ducking my head and pressing my forehead to his chest as I took a blind swipe at Cory. Rory laughed, pressing his face into my hair.

"Molly, we're going to be late and I'm not going to tell Nate that you were snogging your boyfriend—"

"Cormac—" I growled.

"It's okay, Logan would do the same thing." Rory murmured into my hair, but then he released me, grinning. "I don't want to make you late." He glanced back at Louis Weasley. "And I have a feeling that Lou would rather I get back to our game…"

"Where are you going?" Albus finally asked, glancing up at us, earning himself a piss-off-please scowl from Rory. He was only a couple of feet away, at the table with Rose, and Rose glanced up at me, an irritated look on her face. She hadn't realized I hadn't told Albus.

Of course she hadn't. Because I'd avoided the topic since her reaction in the Greenhouse two days ago.

"Nate's birthday party thing." Rose said quietly. Albus's gaze darkened instantly, his eyebrows drawing together in concern, and I swallowed. Instinctively, I reached out and grabbed Cory's sleeve, dragging him closer to me so I could loop an arm around his shoulders protectively.

"Is your dad going to be there?" Al asked quietly, his gaze firmly on mine; I didn't flinch, glaring back at him. If he said a word about that in front of Cormac, I'd kill him. In the edges of my vision, I saw Rory glance back to me.

"Why does that matter?" Rory murmured, sounding frustrated already. That made me irritated—it was none of his freaking _business_ why it mattered and I could already hear in his voice that it bugged him that Albus _might _know more about me than him. For the love of God. Rory and I were _dating_. Not fucking married. And I was tired of this—I'd sold out once this week already, pretending it was fine that he had me walking on eggshells around him and Albus.

"It doesn't, and it's none of his business or yours—" I muttered, continuing glaring at Albus; my gaze hadn't moved, and it wouldn't. Molly Gale didn't ever waver.

"It matters a little, Molly." Albus said coldly, standing up now, and I felt the rest of the Common Room begin to pay attention to us; I smothered the desire to just shut this down right then, walk away. I needed to settle this with Rory.

"Why?" Rory demanded, his voice louder this time. Albus glanced, uncertain, now, at Rory, before looking back to me. "Molly, tell me what he's talking about." That was a command. I didn't take commands.

"It's none of your business and none of his." I growled out, and I felt Cormac inch closer to me. My little brother didn't get what was going on, only that I was the one trying to make everyone _shut up_. And in the Gale family rules of conduct, that made us allies. "Albus, I mean it, stay the fuck out of this." I continued, looking back to my friend, and Al just raised his eyebrows. I saw the hint of a smirk on his lips—he was pleased that I'd told him and not Rory.

"And if you come back with bruises again, am I supposed to stay the fuck out of that too?" Albus growled at me.

"_Albus_." I said sharply. Al held my gaze unrepentantly, and I glanced down at my little brother, squeezing his shoulder. "Cormac, go wait outside in the hallway." I murmured, pressing Nate's gift into his hands. Cory looked like he wanted to argue, but obeyed, ducking his head as he skulked out of the Common Room. I looked back up at the boys.

"Okay, now I need to know what he's talking about." Rory snapped at me, scowling.

"Stop talking to me like I owe you any kind of explanation." I hissed at Rory, glaring at him, now; switching targets of a glare wasn't wavering, just adding names to my hitlist. "I told you it didn't matter, and that it was none of your business—"

"Molly's dad hurt her wrist and kicked her out of the house the night that her brother got his Hogwarts letter." Albus said in a flat voice to Rory, interrupting me. I fell silent, feeling my heart pound in my chest as I glanced back at Albus, my eyes wide and panicked for a millisecond before I reshaped my expression into an angry glare. I was going to fucking kill him for this. "So, yeah, it kind of matters if her dad's going to be at this thing."

Rory was staring at Albus, now, his mouth slightly open, his eyes blazing angrily, before he glanced down at me. "Why the bloody hell didn't you tell me?" He murmured, but he was angry, despite his quiet voice.

"I'm not doing this in front of the whole fucking Common Room." I hissed at Rory, glancing around again. Rory glared at me.

"Afraid they'll find out how you're obviously cheating on me with Al?" Rory muttered, his gaze serious, and I slapped his arm.

"Hell no." I growled at him. "I'm not one of those girls who cheats. Ever. And if you knew me _at all _you would know that, you bloody idiot—"

'Why didn't you tellme, then?"

"Because it's none of your _bloody business_—I'm so tired of you acting like this!" I exploded at him, my voice rising, glaring angrily. "I am not your pet and you are not my keeper—you don't get to keep tabs on me for whatever reason you want to and especially not when you're acting like right assholes about it—"

"You told Albus, though." Rory said slowly. I exhaled shortly, throwing a wild glare around the Common Room in an attempt to discourage people from out-right staring at us.

"Yeah." I said firmly, glaring up at him. I was done with this. I wasn't going to sell out on this—yeah, I'd told Albus, because he'd been there that night. I'd told Albus because his aunt and uncle had custody of me. And Rory didn't know that, sure. But he also, obviously, didn't trust me with Albus. And I was done trying to cover for that.

"I told you that it was weird that you were spending so much time with him and you decided to just go and tell him crap that you didn't tell me?" Rory demanded.

"I don't owe you an explanation." I said coldly.

"I think you do." Rory insisted angrily.

"Okay, you know what, you're losing points here, and fast." I spat at him, and Rory's eyes widened in surprise; this was our first fight. We'd had tiffs, sure. Little spats. No proper arguments, though. Thus, he'd never seen me properly angry before. So he was in for a charming surprise. "I'm not one of those girls who cheats, and as such, I _do not put up with _people who don't recognize that." I ground out. "You're obviously about as dense as a fucking hippogriff because you can't see that and that's not my fault or my problem." I shook my head resolutely. "You're the one with the problem, here. Either figure out a way to deal with my friendship with Albus or move the fuck on to some other girl. I'm tired of this."

Rory gaped at me for a second: I'd just suggested we broke up if he couldn't get over Albus and my being friends. I was sure that hurt, and if I weren't someone who'd learned a long time ago that the second you start selling yourself out to protect other people's ways of life, you lost yourself, I might not have set that rule. But I was me and Rory had signed up for that. It was his own fault if he didn't understand the way I worked enough to know I'd never do something like that. "I'm not wrong to be pissed off about this, Molly." He said finally.

"Yes, you are_."_ I snapped at him, glaring still. Rory frowned at me, his face flushed with anger.

"It matters that you told him before you told me." Rory insisted darkly.

"I actually think it matters more, Corner, that you heard that Molly's dad hurt her and your first reaction was that she didn't tell you." Albus said quietly, straightening up as he looked flatly at Rory. Rory's head whipped to him, his gaze fearsome, but Albus just held his ground, because he was Albus and a little stupid. He didn't always know better.

"Stay the fuck out of this, Potter, I think you've done enough fucking damage already." Rory murmured.

"You're the one doing the damage." I hissed at Rory.

"He's the one who won't let us alone because he _likes _you—" Rory exclaimed, and Albus scowled darkly at Rory. "I'm fucking tired of _competing_ with him, Molly—you can't just play me like this, telling me that I need to trust you!" Rory glared down at me. I exhaled shortly, my patience finally hitting zero.

"You want me to choose?" I hissed at him, glaring up at him angrily. "You're sure you want me to _choose_ which of you I get to keep, because you're mutually exclusive?" Rory didn't say anything, and I glanced at Al; I saw a flicker of concern there. He wasn't sure I'd pick him—and judging by the confidence on Rory's face, he was fairly sure I'd choose him.

Well, I surprised people sometimes.

"_Him_." I hissed, glancing at Albus emphatically. Rory blinked. "_I choose him_." This shut Rory up—finally—and I turned away from Albus and Rory stalking towards the portrait hole. The younger kids who had stopped what they were doing to stare at Rory, Al and me scrambled out of my way, and the older kids just went back to their work. I glared irritatedly at a couple of the fourth year girls who were glaring at me, and they all blushed and looked away. I slammed through the portrait hole, the Fat Lady swinging open in anticipation, and I saw Cormac waiting for me, his eyes wide. I forced myself to stop, taking a deep breath in front of my brother. I was angry, sure, but not angry at Cormac, and I wasn't going to take it out of him.

Cory looked up at me, and he bit his lip for a moment. "Were you dating Rory?" He asked. I blinked—had I really not told my own brother that I had a boyfriend?—before I nodded.

"I was." I said carefully.

"Not anymore, though." Cory checked, and I nodded once more. He looked at me for a second longer. "Are you okay?" He asked me softly.

"I'm fine." I murmured, showing him a small smile, even as I fiddled with his school uniform; he hadn't changed for the party, because he was eleven and didn't care what he looked like. "Let's go." I put a hand on Cory's back, directing him in the general direction of Longbottom's office: we were using a portkey to get home.

"Molly," I heard Albus call behind me. I turned to look back at him, pressing my lips together; Al was watching me carefully, his green gaze searching my face. "Is your dad going to be there?" He asked me, and I heard the concern in his voice.

"No." I murmured. He nodded, relaxing.

"Okay." He murmured. He paused for a moment, before he smiled at me, gently. "Thanks."

"I didn't do that for you." I murmured, then I just turned and walked away.

I didn't trust myself to stay too much longer.

**A/N:** Merry Christmas (belatedly)!

So this chapter was, to put it frankly, a wee bit of a monster to write. I think I've rewritten it three different times, now. But it's up. And resembles something like a chapter.

As always, thanks to my lovely, lovely reviewers: _NinjaHarryPotter4Life, hushpuppy22, KaitlynEmmaRose, NotaDreamNotYetANightmare, Molivline, Bella-Faye, _and _sInGiNg In ThE rAiN_. Reviews made Christmas better. :D Also, happy boxing day, though I'd _lovee _to know what it's supposed to be celebrating…?


	11. Wannabe

**A/N:** This is super late, and for that, I am sorry, but please have pity for me, as school has finally restarted following Christmas Break and my work load had rocketed up again. Rawr.

Anyway, shoutouts to my lovely reviewers, y'all made this chapter possible:  
**NotaDreamYetNotaNightMare (Special props for response to Boxing Day Q, thanks :])  
ElLa EnChAnTeD  
Allen Pitt  
Skittles31  
jessiblaze7  
KaitlynEmmaRose (Special props for response to Boxing day, thanks!)  
pottercullen-4ever  
Molivline  
Angel2  
LeshawnaSeville31**

Happy reading!

* * *

Wannabe

_If you want my future, forget my past,  
If you want to get with me, better make it fast,  
Now don't go wasting my precious time,  
Get your act together, we could be just fine…  
If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends,  
Make it last forever, friendship never ends.  
If you wanna be my lover, you have got to give,  
Taking is too easy, but that's the way it is.  
-Spice Girls_

"Molly!"

Maybe, if I pretended not to hear him, he'd go away.

"Molly, wait up!"

If I was just ignoring him, he _had_ to go away. No one had that little self-respect.

"Molly Sienna Gale, I know you hear me."

Except, apparently, for Albus Potter. He'd been following me for the last three minutes, calling my name after me, but I'd not paid attention. I was so close to the Common Room, too—another few steps, and I could have run the rest of the way.

In the three days since Nate's birthday & my unceremonious dumping of Rory Corner, class-A asshole, I'd pretty much been avoiding everyone but Rose; I didn't want to talk about Rory, and if anyone understood how annoying it was dumping a guy, it was Rose. Granted, she wasn't the most sensitive person on earth, but once she'd figured out that I hadn't wanted to talk about Rory or how or why I'd dumped him, she'd come up with a seemingly endless list of unrelated subjects we could talk about.

Unfortunately, part of that had been avoiding Albus (and consequentially, Fred) like the plague.

The fact of it was, though, I wasn't sure what to say to Albus. He was too close to the reason I'd dumped Rory—Rory had thought I was cheating on him with Al. And then I'd chosen Albus over Rory. That wasn't usually how I played that kind of situation; usually, I'd screw them both over, say I chose _neither _of them, and go off on my merry way. But I hadn't been able to force myself to drop Albus. I wasn't sure why, either. Thus, like the brave Gryffindor I was, I'd avoided him.

"_MOLLY SIENNA GALE, STOP WALKING FORWARD FOR TEN SECONDS!" _Albus finally shouted after me as he followed me into the staircase. I felt my blood turn cold as I turned around, finally stopping, and fixed him with my angriest glare. Albus met my narrowed gaze with a _what'd-you-expect_ look as he came forward. "Molly, for the love of Merlin, I've been following you for like five minutes trying to catch your attention—are you freaking deaf or something?" He demanded angrily, and I shushed him. I grabbed his wrist and pulled him after me up another staircase, one that didn't lead to the Gryffindor Common Room as had been my original plan. I dragged him into the third floor hallway, before I turned and slammed the door shut behind us. I turned around, pressing my back to the door, and glared at him angrily.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?" I demanded lowly.

"Trying to figure out why one of my friends has been avoiding me." Albus snapped at me.

"You were making a scene!"

"You're acting like a two-year-old avoiding me all the time."

"I am _not._" I hissed, glaring at him.

"Not acting like a two-year-old or not avoiding me?" Al demanded, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Both."

"You haven't talked to me, sat next to me, or walked within ten feet of me in three days, Molly." Albus said seriously; he didn't usually act this intensely, but here he was, his green gaze searching my blue one as he tried to understand what the hell was going on in my head. "Are you mad at me or something?"

"No." I said definitively, and Al frowned.

"Then what the fuck are you doing?" He demanded loudly. I didn't want to have this conversation right now. Or ever.

"I'm not sure." I admitted after a second. Albus fell silent, looking at me, his gaze such a mix of anger and confusion that it made my head hurt. "I'm figuring this out still, okay?" I murmured, my voice quiet.

"That's fine, take all the time you want to, Molly, just _stop avoiding me_." Albus ground out, grabbing my shoulders and looking at me seriously. I raised one eyebrow.

"You think I _like_ avoiding you?" I demanded quietly. Albus threw his hands in the air, staring at me uncomprehendingly.

"Am I supposed to know the answer to that?" He demanded, frustrated. I studied him for a moment.

"I don't." I said flatly. Albus let his breath out in a whooshing sound.

"Then stop it." Albus muttered finally.

"Fine." We stared at each other for a minute, before the corner of Al raised his eyebrows.

"Will you be letting me out of this hallway?" He asked, and I realized that I still had my back against the door. I rolled my eyes, moving out of the way.

"I'm not holding you hostage." I muttered.

"You might be. I don't know." Albus said, flashing me a small smile. He opened the door, holding it open and gesturing for me to go first.

"What are you doing?" I demanded.

"Proving that chivalry isn't dead." He said firmly.

"You're an idiot." I muttered, a smile tugging at my lips now, and Albus grinned outright.

"My lady," He said, bowing at the waist now, and still gesturing that I go through the doors. I smacked his head.

"Stupid." I murmured under my breath as I passed him, going through first. I smiled a little, before trying to smother it.

I shouldn't have been this happy to have stopped avoiding Albus.

* * *

"Please, please, please, please, please—" Rose chanted as she followed me out of the castle three days later. "I'll fail Care of Magical Creatures—Molly, even my dad passed that, he'll think I'm the stupidest child on this lovely planet—"

"You're not stupid," I muttered, throwing a glare back at Rose, lifting my school bag higher on my shoulder. "You're just lazy. You could have done the homework. More over, you could have done it _perfectly_, without much effort. Thus, no, you may not borrow my homework." I rolled my eyes. "I will not reward your laziness."

"I'll break Uncle Hagrid's heart—"

"Is every teacher at this school your uncle?" I demanded, throwing her an irritated look. Seriously, though, the Potter-Weasley Clan called Longbottom "Uncle Neville," Hagrid "Uncle Hagrid," and Madame Wood "Auntie Katie." It was the most ridiculous thing I'd ever seen.

"I _wish_, I'd be getting O's in more than Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures, then." Rose said dramatically.

"You're getting _O's_—" I growled, stopping and glaring at her as she came up beside me. She grinned cheekily at me, and I just sighed in exasperation. Rose had this school _wired_—and aside from that, even if the teachers began to think she was as lazy as she actually was, she just turned on the smile and the promises to work harder, and back she was at the top. Ridiculousness. "If you're getting O's in this stupid class then you absolutely do not need my answers to the homework. One late homework won't even bring you down to an E, probably—"

"Molly!"

"Rose, I'm not doing this again—"

"Molly, _please_,"

"Rose!" I snapped. "You're a prefect! You're supposed to be catching kids copying their homework! Not copying homework yourself!"

"He's my _uncle_—he'll tell my dad—"

"Your dad doesn't care if you flunk out of school, he practically did, as he frequently reminds your mum, and he's the most senior auror at the Ministry aside from your _uncle_—"

"He saved the freaking world, of course he got a job. And he cares if I flunk Care of Magical Creatures—"

"I thought we already determined you wouldn't actually flunk by handing this in late—"

"My dad will be _heart-broken_." Rose said pleadingly as we neared Hagrid's hut. I sighed in exasperation: while Rose wasn't lying that her dad would heart-broken if she failed Care of Magical Creatures, she was wrong that she would flunk. Unfortunately, too, there was the added factor of Hagrid probably mentioning it to her mum and dad—frequent visitors of Hagrid's—if she didn't hand in this homework, which was, as I understood it, third in a series. And I didn't like Mrs. Weasley. But I thought Mr. Weasley was a tolerable human being. I didn't want to cause him undue stress.

"Fine," I dragged the word out, making sure she understood from my tone what a burden she was being, even as I stopped, ten feet from Hagrid's hut, to open my bag and pull out my notebook. I flipped to the page my answers were on: we'd only had to do 10 multiple choice from our textbook. Rose was literally the laziest person _ever_ for not doing this. "You're the worst prefect ever." I muttered, glaring at her, and she grinned angelically at me.

"You're the nicest person on the face of the planet." She told me in a sugary tone. I sighed in exasperation, stomping past her once I'd handed over the notebook. She might copy my homework, but Rose wouldn't make me late for class.

I walked around Hagrid's hut, cutting carefully through his vegetable garden—it wouldn't do me any good to stomp on his plants. As I rounded the small house, I spotted the rest of my class. As I approached, I saw a few Hufflepuff kids my year standing together, at the edge of the garden.

"I can't believe she dumped _him_—I mean, he's practically already signed up for head boy next year." I heard one of the girls—Dana Hooper—say. I felt my ice freeze in my veins, and I fixed the kids with a glare, stopping in my tracks.

In the five days since I'd dumped Rory, it'd spread like freaking wildfire through the school. Granted, that was to be, at least, a tad expected. I'd dumped him in front of the _whole Gryffindor Common Room._ Which hadn't been planned, to say the least. I didn't like to make a scene. But it'd happened, and I now remembered why I didn't like to make scenes. People then talked about you. And I _hated_ people talking about me.

"I know, I'd never dump him if he spared me a second glance." Another girl called Maia Froder murmured.

"I just feel bad for the guy." The boy (Bruce Anwar) standing with them said, and I heard his disdain in his voice. "Molly just seems like such an icy bitch—even _Mikey_ couldn't stand her. Mikey, Rory—seriously, the boys this girl dates are the nicest guys on the planet and they only last so long. Even though she did dump Rory—he would have gotten around to it sooner rather than later, I reckon. She's just…emotionless."

I inhaled carefully, before I walked slowly up to the Hufflepuff kids, walking to stand between the boy and the girl. The three of them fell silent, and I smiled sarcastically at them. "Hey guys." I said in a friendly tone, and Maia gulped audibly. "Awful sweet of you all to talk about me—I love it when people talk about me behind my back," I said sarcastically, looking around at them. "Now, if you'd be so kind as to switch topics, it'd be much appreciated." I dropped the friendly tone, the smile, and glared around at my three classmates before I zeroed in on Bruce, narrowing my eyes at him. I started past him, my shoulder hitting his before I looked up at him. "Hope I lived up to my title of icy bitch." I said, looking up at him and smirking a little. Bruce looked away, and I strode past him, feeling a little smug. I hated people talking about me, sure, but there was definitely satisfaction in knocking them down a few pegs when I caught them at it. Also, when I'd been dating Rory, I'd felt obligated to be nicer to the general public. Rory was so nice that I had been a touch worried about how my general irritation with the world would be perceived when so obviously compared to him and his general politeness. Now that I'd dumped Rory… well, I was just me.

I crossed the clearing behind Hagrid's hut, glad to see (for _once_ in my life) Fred and Liam, standing there and watching me. Fred was grinning, but Liam just looked shocked.

"You just don't take shit from people, do you?" Fred said, chuckling as I walked up, and I snorted in laughter, shaking my head once.

"Not worth my time." I said shortly, and Fred slung his arm around my shoulders.

"Then remind me how, exactly, you're friends with Rose?" Liam demanded, and I rolled my eyes.

"I wonder that myself sometimes—you know that she's copying my homework right now?" I demanded, even as Rose walked into the clearing, my notebook in her arms. "Alright, well, she's done copying my homework right now—but that's what she _was_ doing." Rose stepped up to us, grinning angelically at me and holding out my notebook. "Brat." I murmured as I took it from her.

"Mm-hmm." Rose said dismissively, looking up at Liam. "Oh—Liam—remember we have rounds tonight."

"Yes, because of the two of us, I'm the one who forgets and is late _every single night_." Liam muttered irritatedly.

"You two are just the most charming people on this lovely planet, don't get me wrong," Fred said with a grin. "But perhaps we could hold off, just for one class, on your just—scintillating banter. Really. It's just all-consuming, how interested I am in the prefect conflicts that go on in Gryffindor tower."

"Hush, Fred." Rose muttered, rolling her eyes.

"Alright, are you all 'ere?" Hagrid asked as he came out the back door of his hut, leaning heavily on his cane, which was as tall as I was. He limped to the front of the clearing, turning to look back at us, studying the group to make sure we were all here. "No, someone's—"

"Sorry, here, professor—" Lysander Scamander exclaimed, running up, and Hagrid chuckled, nodding. Lysander Scamander had never been on time for anything in his entire existence and he certainly wasn't going to start now.

"Good, good." Hagrid said, nodding and waiting for Lysander to settle himself beside four Ravenclaw kids. "Alright, today we're talking about something that could be in Defense against the Dark Arts, but it's been moved here as the Defense curriculum was getting a bit, well, heavy, and technically, they're creatures." He glanced around at us. "This won't be much in your textbooks, so listen close, alright?" Hagrid's voice was remarkably serious, so the class fell silent, for once in our lives. "I'm assuming that all if you have heard of Dementors, 'cept for, I s'pose, the muggleborns—who's heard of them?" Hagrid demanded. Rose, Fred and everyone but Liam and myself raised their hands, their faces markedly grim. "Alright, alright, hands down." He looked at Liam and I. "They're these really dark creatures, y'see— they guard the wizard prison, Azkaban." I nodded, keeping my eyes on Hagrid. "They, well—they feed on happiness, sort of. They can suck our your soul, too—it's called the Dementor's Kiss. It's the equivalent of—what-they-call-it—"

"Capitol Punishment." Liam said quietly, and Hagrid nodded.

"That, in the muggle world. It's horrible." He left it at that, glancing around at the whole class again. "There's really only one way to stop dementors properly; using a patronus charm." He exhaled shortly. "The bad news is that the charm itself is really hard. But if you can get the hang of it, it's more useful than a Norwegian Ridgeback in a wrestling match." I blinked, frowning; what? "It's a great defender against a whole bunch of things—not many spells, mind you, but actual creatures. It can carry messages too, if you manage to get a full-fledged animal patronus, which, by the way, many of you won't be able to, and that doesn't mean much about you—lots of respectable wizards can't." He cracked a smile. "All you really need to do is be able to bring up a shield. And the way the charm works—you have to think of your happiest memory. I mean, right and truly happiest. Not that time you got what you wanted for Christmas, but something truly _happy_." He looked at us. "And then let it fill you. Then cast the charm."

He looked around at the class again. "Understand, you lot—getting anything at all is a triumph. And getting nothing isn't a failure. Just means you shouldn't be applying for any positions at Azkaban prison." He said with a smile, and a couple kids chuckled; his jokes weren't funny, most of the time, but Hagrid was such a nice man that people faked it. "Now separate into pairs—"

"Shot not Rose." Fred and I fired out immediately, and Rose turned to us, scowling. I snorted in laughter: Rose was the _most impossible class partner ever_. I didn't even feel bad about that.

"Alright, then—Rose & Liam, ye prefects," He grinned at them, and Rose smothered a groan, turning to glare at Liam. "Fred and… Molly. Bruce, work with Lysander, and Maia and Dana, work together—" He looked around. "Tara & Delilah. Vaughn and Christopher… and Rena, triple up with someone." He said vaguely, waving his hand at Rena Tompson, a Ravenclaw girl our year. "Guys, remember _expecto patronum."_

Fred and I dragged ourselves away from the group, finding ourselves a free space. "Heard you and Albus made up."

"We weren't arguing." I pointed out, glancing at him.

"You were avoiding him." Fred said baldly.

"It's none of your business."

"You made him pretty freaked out. He's my cousin. It's a little my business." Fred argued.

"I freaked him out?" I demanded, glancing up at him. Fred snorted in laughter.

"Molly, I'm not sure exactly where it is you've been recently that you're under the mistaken impression that you don't matter to Albus, but that's wrong. You matter very much to Albus. So perhaps in the future, you can display a touch more sensitivity to that." He turned to me, his gaze serious even though he was smiling a little. Of course, the day he stopped smiling, I should be very, very concerned. "Stop pushing him away, alright?"

"I'm trying." I offered softly.

"Then I'll lay off." Fred said, shrugging. I swallowed, feeling guilty, before shoving it awayl I had nothing to feel guilty about. Fred gestured to the open space in front of us. "You go first." He offered, and I sighed. I bit my lip, thinking. Happy. I need a happy memory.

I exhaled shortly as I flipped through the last couple years—there had to be one good, perfectly happy memory. I just didn't organize my thoughts by how happy they were. I could come up with a good one though. When I received my first Hogwarts letter. The one that meant I got to get away. I swallowed as this thought occurred to me; while the memory itself was happy, there was no denying that Hogwarts hadn't been an altogether presence in my life.

But getting my Hogwarts letter first year had been the best. I'd done weird things my entire life—by eight I was turning off the lights in my room without touching the switch, and I was always getting perfect grades without doing a speck of work. Knowing that I wasn't alone in this weirdness had been the best feeling in my life. Even if it had cost me my home and my parents.

I closed my eyes, thinking of it carefully before I opened my eyes. "_Expecto Patronum_." I murmured, and a silvery mass sprang from my wand, not taking any specific form, but sending scatter silver light into the air. Fred raised his eyebrows, inspecting it.

"Molly, that's a half-decent first try." He said easily. I glared at him.

"Hush up." I said, flicking it at him, and Fred spluttered as my silvery mass leapt at him, but then disappeared as he flailed his arms around.

"Miss Molly hates me so! Heart-breaking!" Fred cried, when he'd finally shaken off the last of my powdery patronus.

"_Go_, Frederick." I muttered, rolling my eyes at him.

"However shall I win her affections back?" Fred demanded, his hand covering his heart dramatically as he dropped to one knee in front of me.

"If you'd cast your patronus and stop acting like an idiot—"

"Shh, you're ruining it." Fred whispered conspiratorially to me, and I laughed quietly, looking away with an unwilling smile; the rest of the class was now watching us, including Hagrid, who was chuckling. Fred grinned; he did love an audience. "Per chance I can just offer the fine lady flowers—" He turned his wand into a bouquet of flowers.

"Fred." I said flatly, trying to smother the smile on my lips; I knew Fred didn't actually like me, he was just fooling around. Fred might have been annoying but I'd noticed that he was a half-decent friend and when he wasn't laughing _at _me, he was trying to make me laugh. Which was nice. Not that I'd ever admit it to him, though.

"Or perhaps the darling damsel prefers exotic pets!" The flowers turned into a parrot.

"Frederick! Cast your patronus!"

"Ah, how her denials wound me." Fred said tragically, dropping his other knee to the ground, and the parrot squawked. "Tragic!"

"Fred." I said, trying to sound like I was scolding him, but I was suppressing a smile unsuccessfully, so when he looked up, he caught sight, and grinned. He pushed himself to his feet.

"My lady?" He asked, and the parrot turned back into a bird.

"Cast your patronus before I hex you."

"Al-_righty_ then." Fred said, still grinning, and our classmates began to lose interest as he'd finished his little performance. He turned and pointed his wand at the ground. "_Expecto Patronum_," He said easily, and a silver dog-type animal leapt to life before him. It stood about two feet off the ground and had spots across it's shaggy back. I studied it for a moment before it approached me, grinning and showing off it's large teeth, then emitted a high-pitched sound that might have been laughter, in something more human.

"Of _course_ you'd have a hyena." I said, shaking my head, looking up at Fred as the hyena crept closer to me. "The only animal that laughs."

"Hey, they're pretty smart little buggers too—"

"Mm-hmm, sure. "I glanced up at him, suddenly realizing that this was a full-fledged animal patronus. "Wait, was this your first try?" I felt my eyebrows draw together—Fred wasn't smart enough for that.

"Merlin, no. Who d'you think I am? Harry Potter?" He demanded, grinning, and I chuckled. "Turns out, having a family that literally had _every single adult member of it_ at the Battle at Hogwarts kind of results in having basic defense training long before Hogwarts started. We were taught the Patronus our third year."

"I guess that's a thing then." I said, nodding and still smiling a little. I studied Fred. "You guys have defensive training at home? Seems a little excessive." Fred shrugged nonresponsively, and I nodded once. I had enough sense to know when someone didn't want to talk about something. I swallowed the urge to ask Fred what Al's patronus was—mostly because I couldn't think of a good reason to want to know that information.

Fred turned to make his hyena turn tricks, and I waved my wand distractedly at the ground, not properly concentrating. Why did I want to know what Albus's patronus was? Al had no bearing on me. His patronus _certainly _had no bearing on me. It wasn't like dementors wandered free in the world, praying on unsuspecting people. His patronus would never be necessary. Much less useful.

"Molly, tell me that you're not trying right now, because all you're doing is blasting holes in Hagrid's yard." Fred said, and I heard the grin in his voice. I scowled up at him, flicking my wand at him. His hair changed from red to the same shade and pattern as his hyena—dark hair with spots. Fred blinked.

"What'd you do?" He demanded. Liam and Rose started sniggering behind him, and I rolled my eyes. "_Molly_, what'd you do…" He dragged out the word, inspecting himself. "Did you not actually hex me or something?"

"I'd suggest looking in a mirror, Fred, dear." I said easily. Fred exhaled shortly.

"I don't know what you did, but I hate you." He told me as he started towards Hagrid's hut.

"If it's any comfort, I simply don't care." I said shortly. Fred glared at me.

"You're the worst. Ever." He said, before glancing down at himself. I snorted in laughter.

"Why, thank you."

* * *

"I heard she threw a lamp at him—"

"No, God, Maria! Get something right for once in your life—it was one of those review books for the OWLs that you can buy in Hogsmeade—" I hated fourth years. So much. There were four of them sitting at the table around the corner from Al, Fred and I in the library, and I was restraining myself from wanting to strangle them. In the day and a half since I'd changed Fred's hair (and he'd changed it back), I'd just pushed myself back into gossip chatter by lashing out at the gossippers. But I'd rather get gossiped about for being a bitchy gossip crusher rather than for being the girl who dumped Rory. And apparently I couldn't stop the gossip.

"Poor Rory!" I gritted my teeth together—poor Rory, my ass. He'd practically accused me of cheating on him then demanded I choose between him and Albus. No _shit_ I'd dumped him. I shot a glare at the table of girls beside us, but I wasn't going to say anything; they'd just take it and run with it. Idiots.

"I know, she's such a bitch—" Albus's head shot up to share a glower with me across the table, and Fred, between us, chuckled. Albus glared at him.

"Seriously, I heard she hooked up with Albus _before_ she dumped Rory—I'm sure she tricked Albus into it. She _would_, after all, and he's practically a saint."

Okay, that was the end of the rope.

I shoved my chair backwards as I pushed myself to my feet. I turned my icy glare on the fourth year girls, my eyes narrowing into slits as I stalked over to them. I pushed my hair out of my face, letting my glare flick from girl to girl before I finally settled on their leader; Cassandra Kemper. God did I hate that girl.

I planted my hands on the table, leaning low to level my face with Cassandra's: the irritated expression on her face flickered to fear, and I felt satisfaction fill me. "If I hear another word," I hissed slowly to her, emphasizing each word, "about how I _must_ have cheated on poor Rory with poor Albus, I will hex you and all your little friends into next week." I gritted my teeth. "Understand?"

Cassandra held my gaze levelly, and I gave her a moment of simple staring before I raised one eyebrow. The girl looked down at her book, blushing, and I snorted in laughter. "Pathetic." I scoffed under my breath, pushing myself up. I spared one last, scathing glance for the rest of the table before I turned on my heel, walking back to Albus and Fred, my head held high. Fred whistled, long and low, as I came back, and I smacked the back of his head as I approached my seat, before sinking down. Albus just flashed me a grin.

"Impressive." He said proudly. I sighed in exasperation, looking back down at my notebook and flipping to the page I was writing a draft of my Potions essay on. A moment later, though, I felt a small smile curve on my lips, and beside me, Fred snorted in laughter.

"You're one scary girl, Molly." Fred said with a grin, and I glanced up at him, before I looked back down at the essay.

I wasn't to be messed with. And now Cassandra knew that.

* * *

_Dear Molly,  
I get to write this letter all by myself because Cal signed up for the football team at school so now he has practice after school some days. Natey said Cal can write you on the day that I take my dance class, but I get to write you first, so I think that means my letter is better.  
I'm sorry Cal and I missed you last week when you were at Natey's party. Daddy took Cal and me to work with him, though, because we had the day off. It was lots of fun. Cal and me built a house out of Daddy's business cards and then Daddy laughed when it fell. Cal laughed too because he thought it was funny. But I wanted it to stay up forever and ever so I didn't laugh._

_Miss you heaps and tons and lots of hugs,  
Elena Lucasta Gale_

* * *

_Dear Molly,  
I signed up for the football team at school, and my coach says I'm really good! I wear a red uniform just like the color of your school and we're the lions. We roar before every practice. Mummy says we're the best roarers ever. Just like lions, she says. She took pictures and there are copies in the envelopes.  
My letter's just as good at Ellie's, right? Even though I sent it later?_

_Miss you,  
Cal_

* * *

_Sister dear, a certain brother of ours mentioned to me that you have a boyfriend? Awfully thoughtful of you to tell me, since I told you _all about _Sarah…oh wait, you didn't. Spill, Molly._

—_Nate_

* * *

"You have officially had another three-letter day while I once again flounder in the lack of mail." Fred said irritatedly. It'd now been four days since I'd dyed his hair, and while he had some times when he was fine with me, he had other times when he was just the tiniest bit miffed. His hair hadn't quite changed back yet—it was getting a bit of his normal reddish hue back, though, so things were looking up. "Cal and Ellie are not that much younger than Roxie. She could be writing me letters. Alas, she does not."

"The difference here is that the twin-children love Molly. Roxie frequently denies being related to you." Rose pointed out, not looking up from her book. Rose, Fred and I were sitting in the Great Hall, waiting for Albus to get out of his meeting with a teacher.

"I'm a fantabulous big brother." Fred said, faking offense.

"You used her first make up kit on the neighbors' hairless cat and said it looked just like her." Rose said, still not looking up.

"You can't be reading that book and carrying on a conversation at the same time." I observed. "What are you reading, anyway?" Rose looked up guiltily now, before she held up the Rita Skeeter book about her mother. The same one that I'd torn a page out of. "Rose…"

"Rita Skeeter's book is by far the most worthwhile example of how people make up complete crap about Mum." Rose said firmly.

"Please don't read that around me." I said flatly, frowning a little. Fred glanced at me.

"Why does the lovely lady dislike about the book?" Fred asked me. "Other than, of course, the obvious nonsense she writes—"

"She knew that Rose's parents have custody of Cormac and me." I said lowly, looking up at him. "She knew Dad kicked me out after Cory's letter came. She wrote it in there." I looked back down at the parchment I had open on the table; I was proof reading an essay.

"So?" Fred demanded. I glanced up at him.

"What d'you mean?"

"So what if she wrote it in there. It's true." Fred said, shrugging one shoulder.

"It's none of her business."

"The whole book is none of her business. Her whole set of work is none of her business. But that was at least true."

"Cormac still doesn't know." I pointed out.

"Then tell him." Fred suggested, as if it were that simple. I narrowed my eyes emphatically at him.

"Fred, leave her alone." Rose said distractedly. Fred frowned at her. Rose glanced up at him. "I learned a long time ago that it's not worth broaching the topic of her family. Her bite is worse than her bark. I promise, she'll kill you."

"Who'll kill Fred? I'll give them a medal." Albus demanded, as he walked up, and he sank into the seat beside mine, leaving Rose alone on her side of the table. I looked back at him, raising my hand in the air, and Albus snorted. "Oh, well, I've been waiting for that since second year, so…"

"I'm asking a reasonable question." Fred said, rolling his eyes, even as he grabbed a croissant. He glanced at Albus over my head. "Why doesn't she tell Cormac about the whole custody shenanigan." He clarified.

"Shenanigan?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

"Well, I thought the answer to that was obvious." Albus continued as if I'd not said anything. "Molly is queen of shenanigans. As such, they bend to her will." He paused, taking a sip of my pumpkin juice, and I glared at him. "If she glares at the custody shenanigan long enough, obviously, it will cower in fear and amend itself." Albus looked back down at me. "I mean, that was your strategy, right? Because unless you are queen of shenanigans, this is going to explode in your face."

I glared at Albus for a moment. "I'm not just glaring at the custody shenanigan." I said irritatedly.

"So you have a plan?" Albus demanded raising his eyebrows.

"I'm sending Cormac home for Christmas, and if all goes well, I'm proposing that Cory get's moved back into Mum and Dad's custody." I said shortly. Albus blinked at me. "Cause then I have evidence."

"What about you?" Al demanded.

"I'll always do whatever I think's best." I said, shrugging. "Besides, I'm seventeen in just over a year. Then no one needs to think twice about custody of me."

Fred chuckled, and I glanced back to him. He grinned at me. "You're literally the most stubborn person I know." He said shortly.

"I try, I try." I said loftily, before I glanced back at Albus, who was watching me, concern etched on his features. I looked away almost immediately. I hadn't gained any more insight to him than I had in our meeting in the hallway.

I still had no idea what I wanted from him.

* * *

_Nate—  
There was a boyfriend, but I dumped him, so no harm no foul. In other news, I'll be murdering Cormac for telling you.  
So I have to tell you something that, I'm not kidding you, you may not tell Cory. When Dad flipped out and Cory and me ran off to the Leakey Cauldron, I saw my friend Albus and his dad's kind of like the Chief of Police for wizards (he's called Head Auror). Al and his brother James told their dad what happened and Mr. Potter, because he's got powers like this, put Cormac and I in the custody of my friend Rose's parents. A.K.A. Mum and Dad are not our legal guardians anymore.  
I have a plan, have no fear, but I need you to make sure Cormac can spend break there and warm Dad up to the idea of him coming home, okay? I need it for evidence for whenever I push Mr. Potter on returning Cory to Mum & Dad's custody._

_Love,  
Molly_


	12. I'd Lie

**A/N:** So, I'm sacrificing my photography grade for this chapter, but the good news is, I don't care that much. I like photography, and deeply respect the art, but I really just need the arts credit in order to graduate from high school. So all I need to do is _pass _the class. Which I'm on track to do. Even if I did lose my school-provided camera… I will technically meet every single requirement to pass the class. Even if it is with a C.

Song explanation: I am one of those obnoxiously snobby people who considers themselves above Taylor Swift, mostly because, with the exception of a few people, most of the people I know who love her are super-duper annoying. However, this song…well, it fit Albus. And Molly. And I'm snobby, but not to the point of story-destruction.

Happy reading!  
Carrie

P.S. My beloved Philadelphia Eagles screwed up bad Sunday Night against the Packers & thus are no longer in contention for the Super Bowl. Did you know that the Eagles have **_never_** won a super Bowl? Think about that and then understand my pain.

* * *

I'd Lie

_He sees everything black and white,  
Never let nobody see him cry,  
I don't let nobody see me wishing he was mine.  
I could tell you his favorite color's green,  
He loves to argue, born on the seventeenth,  
His sister's beautiful, he has his father's eyes.  
And if you ask me if I love him,  
I'd lie.  
—Taylor Swift_

"I hate Potions." I growled at Albus as I sank down beside him, dropping my cauldron on the table, and Al raised his eyebrows, looking at me appraisingly. "It's just ridiculous. I thought I got away from cooking when I stopped being a muggle but _no_, I come to Hogwarts and I find out that Potions is, essentially, _cooking_."

"Not really." Albus noted. "People in the Wizarding world cook, too. Without potions. Odd as it may sound, we, too, eat."

"But Potions is so much _like_ cooking that it's completely unavoidable and you'd think in this stupid world full of magic someone would come up with a way to just _not have to cook_—" I said irritatedly, slamming my textbook down on the table.

"Relax." Al ordered gently. I glanced up at him, and he watched me carefully. "What's up with you?" He asked after a second. "Something's wrong." I frowned at him, pulling away and looking down at my book again. I exhaled shortly, before I looked back up at him.

"I wrote Nate to tell him about the custody situation." I admitted quietly, and Albus's eyebrows shot up.

"And?" Albus demanded.

"_And_ he hasn't written me back. In four days." I ran a hand through my hair, before letting my elbow rest on the table as I twisted to look at Al properly. "That's almost unheard of with him. Unless he's mad at me. Which, I bet he is." I exhaled shortly, before I caught the look on Albus's face; he was looking _smug _of all things. Why the hell did he look _smug_?

"I'm sure he's not mad," Al said dismissively, waving a hand at me. "But you told Nate about how Hermione & Ron are your legal guardians?" Al checked. I nodded once, frowning at him, even as I saw him smirk.

"Why do you look like that?" I demanded, glaring at him.

"You _took my advice and did something about the custody situation_?" Albus demanded, speaking slowly, as if I were stupid, and I narrowed my eyes at him.

"I didn't take your advice." I snapped at him, glaring outright now.

"Yes you did." Albus said, smirking.

"No." I insisted.

"You wrote your brother. That _sounds_ like doing something." Albus said determinedly, and I glared at him, than shoved his shoulder, turning back to my textbook. I felt Al's determined gaze on my face, but I ignored it. "Mol-_ly_." He dragged my name out into two syllables.

"I didn't take your advice," I said slowly, glaring up at him. "Because that implies a lack of a game plan." My words were carefully spaced for emphasis. "And I _always _have a game plan."

"Whatever you say…" He said, chuckling a little, and I opened my textbook, looking down at the potion we were supposed to be making. "What page are we supposed to be on again?"

"Two hundred four." I told him distractedly, reading the instructions. "But we can just use my book."

"Then gimme an instruction." Albus demanded.

"Patience is a virtue." I told him, not even sparing him a glance.

"Good thing I never claimed to be virtuous." Albus muttered, and I could practically _hear_ him roll his eyes. Al was so open about his emotions—I was either angry or a blank slate, or at least I tried to keep it that way.

"I _will_ kill you." I snapped at him, turning to look up at him. "And add a cup and a half of a Pogrebin tears."

"See, I was much more able to take those threats seriously the first twenty trillion times you threatened that." He said, grabbing the bottle of Pogrebin tears on the table and measuring out a cup and a half. He dumped the contents into the cauldron, and I reached forward, tapping the burner beneath the cauldron with my wand: a small flame sprang up around the burner, and I pulled my hand back, hissing as I shook out my hand. I'd accidentally burnt my finger a bit.

"I hate Potions," I grumbled as I looked down at my textbook again, shaking out my hand. Then I registered what Al had said, and I looked up at him, frowning irritatedly. "I haven't threatened that more than twice." I refuted.

"At least thrice."

"Thrice?"

"Three times." Al clarified.

"I _know_." I said witheringly. "I just haven't heard the word used in conversation since the nineteenth century."

"Another reason you need to spend more time with me." Albus decided, and I rolled my eyes.

"Add the Kappa scales and stir twenty two and a third times counterclockwise." I muttered, looking down at the directions. "With your wand." I added after a second. He shot me a look that clearly said _how stupid do you think I am_, and I smirked a little, looking back down at my book. I studied the pages, letting my hair fall in front of my face a little before I looked at Albus as subtly as I could under my hair, studying his face. I didn't get that many chances to really look at Albus—he was always in motion, always glaring or grinning or laughing. He was a boy of extremes, that much I'd figured out. It was so odd, then, that I could even bring myself to tolerate him. I only allowed myself the barest range of emotion—anger was the easiest to allow, mostly because it was the hardest to reign in, but I allowed myself a moment of happiness here and there. Albus allowed himself the whole range of emotions. I wasn't sure my sanity would have put up with that.

Someone in the back of the classroom laughed, and I dragged my gaze back down to my book, pressing my lips together as I eyed the pages in front of me. I had to concentrate.

"Okay, what next?" Al asked, pulling out his wand and wiping it on his robes. I raised my eyebrows as I looked up, happy, suddenly, to have something to pick on.

"That's gross." I told him firmly.

"It's pogrebin tears. They're harmless."

"You stirred them with your wand." I reminded him. "Who knows what kind of magical properties that adds?"

"If my robes start melting, I will stop on my way to change and inform you that you, Molly Sienna Gale, were right and I was wrong." Albus told me, and I stared at him, then shook my head once, ducking my head as an unwilling smile flickered on my lips.

"Add the stupid kappa scales, jerk." I ordered.

"I'm not a jerk. I proved to you just last week that chivalry isn't dead." He reminded me.

"By opening a door." I scoffed, pushing some of my hair out of my face, before I reached out and eyed the kappa scales against the measurements on the side of the vial; the professor had obviously measured them out before class because they were the right amount, so I dumped them in. The potion emitted a plume of purple smoke, and I frowned at it, but when it didn't do anything else, I looked back to Albus. "Hardly the full spectrum of chivalry."

"Well, yes, Molly, I am aware of that." Albus said in a condescending tone. "But since you're hardly the everyday damsel-in-distress, and even if you were, you wouldn't let me _help_ you, I'm kind of left to opening doors." His gaze flicked to our potion, which was now bubbling and with every bubble that popped, a little smidge of purple smoke came out. "I'm pretty sure that's not supposed to be happening." He said uncertainly, opening his own textbook and flipping to the page of the recipe that we were following was on.

"The everyday damsel-in-distress is overrated." I said firmly, looking down at my own textbook and studying the photograph of calmly swirling yellow liquid next to the instruction we were on. "And that's supposed to be swirly and yellow."

"My book agrees with the swirly yellow thing…" Al muttered, sounding mildly distressed.

"Uh-oh." I murmured, looking up at the cauldron. "What'd we do wrong?"

"Did you measure how many kappa scales?" Al demanded. I narrowed my gaze at him.

"Did you stir the right number of times?" I snapped back. Al rolled his eyes, and I looked back down at my book. "Let's just keep going." I said after a moment. I saw Albus raise his eyebrows as I glanced back up at him. "We can't screw it up _more_…" I pointed out.

"Whatever you say." Albus said, raising his hands in the _I surrender _way, and I frowned at him, before grabbing the small dish full of ground erumpent horn powder and took a quarter of a teaspoon of it, frowning at the measurement. "That looks like too much." Al noted.

"It says a quarter of a teaspoon." I said doubtfully, looking down at my book.

"Erumpent horn is explosive." Albus told me seriously. "Careful."

"I'm Princess of Careful Land." I told him, before I lifted the small spoon full of powder and dumped it in the cauldron.

_Boom_.

My cauldron shattered as it's contents exploded, and I flew backwards off my stool, my head smacking the ground with a hollow sound as I hit the cobblestone floor. I blinked up through the purple smoke, the world spinning oddly around me—my head felt _weird_.

I pushed myself up carefully, pressing a hand to the back of my head, and Albus, sitting up beside me, turned to look at me confusedly. "What…?" He mumbled, looking up at the table.

"Mr. Potter, Miss Gale—are you all right?" Professor Caletti asked anxiously as she came around our table, and I blinked up at her. Except for the dull throbbing in my head, I was fairly sure I was fine. Ooh, but the dull throbbing was increasing.

"Ow." Albus said unsurely, and I moved my hand from the back of my head, to reach over myself, and I planted both my hands on one side of my body before pushing myself over onto my hands and knees. I sat back on my ankles, still on my knees, before I pressed my hand to the back of my head again.

"Ow." I echoed.

"Alright, you two, up, up,"

"Holy _crap_, you two just took out most of the dungeon." I heard Liam's voice, but he sounded kind of oddly far away.

"My head feels _weird_." I said slowly, and Albus turned to look at me.

"I'd expect so, Miss Gale, you bonked it pretty hard," Professor Caletti said in her scolding, motherly tone, even as she helped Albus up to his feet. I saw Al chuckle, and I stared at him.

"Bonk is a funny word." He muttered, chuckling a little more, but then he hissed in pain, and pressed his hand to the back of his head, his eyes squeezing shut. His glasses weren't on his face. And it made him look different. "Ow."

I grabbed onto the table above me, pulling myself up unsteadily, keeping one hand pressed to the back of my head. I winced at the renewed pounding in my head as I straightened up carefully, keeping my free hand pressed to the table as I tried to keep myself upright.

"Miss Gale, Mr. Potter, do you need Mr. Fitzroy to escort you to the Hospital Wing, or—"

"No." Al and I both cut in, our voices hoarse. I only knew that Liam's loud and brash way of handling everything wouldn't help my apocalyptic headache—I didn't care if I could probably use the extra hand getting around.

"Then off you go—and no detours." Professor Caletti said firmly. She inspected me as I came forward. "And when you two regain enough of your mental faculties—do try to figure out…" I saw her mouth moving, and I heard sounds, but I couldn't quite make those things form comprehensible words. I waited for the sounds to stop before I took a few careful steps forward, and Al and I started towards the back of the classroom, cautiously picking our way between the tables and seats and people to slip into the hallway. The door to the Potions room slammed behind us, and I cringed, hating the way the loud sound seemed to echo in my brain.

"Ow." Albus said slowly, even as we started up the stairs carefully.

"Ow." I agreed heartily. There were two minutes of silence, until, because even when I'm concussed I'm still very much _me_, I felt the need to fill it with an accusation. "You didn't stir it right."

"I will kill you." Albus murmured, his words slow and less threatening than if a seven-year-old had said them, but that wasn't the point; we both began to laugh a little before it made us move our heads, and I had to stop and grab the wall of the hallway we were on. I breathed in deeply through my nose, trying to abate the pounding in my skull, and after a few seconds of deep breathing, I opened my eyes again, hating the brightness of the light in the hallway.

"I hate potions," I ground out between my teeth as I carefully started forward again.

"Me too." Albus said weakly as he stumbled forward beside me. "Stupid."

"Stupid." I agreed as we turned a corner, then began up another set of stairs. We managed up that slowly, turning down the hallway that led to the Hospital Wing, and Al carefully walked a little faster than me, grabbing the doorknob and dragging the door open. He turned to me, a goofy grin on his features. I frowned at him, before I realized what was happening, here. "What are you doing?" I mumbled the words I'd demanded so rudely last week, a small smile on my features.

"Proving chivalry isn't dead." He said, and we both chuckled a little again before the pounding in my head threatened to kill me, and I exhaled quickly, letting all the breath leave my lungs. I couldn't laugh if I didn't have any air.

I inhaled again only when I trusted myself not to laugh again, stumbling forward into the Hospital Wing. Madame Pomfrey looked up from within her office, before her eyebrows shot up and she pushed herself to her feet brusquely, coming out.

"What did you two do—Miss Gale, I really do expect it to be Fred Weasley stumbling in here with Mr. Potter, rather than you…"

"I'm a corrupting influence." Al said, chuckling, and I felt absurd laughter bubble up in me too—my head felt weird and it made everything that I didn't usually find funny _hysterical_.

"Sit down, sit down." Madame Pomfrey ordered, and I, still laughing a little despite the pain in my head, managed to make my way over to a bed; Al gestured grandly to the bed with his free hand, his goofy grin still in place.

"Miss Gale, if you'll sit first—"

I laughed, ignoring the twinge now in my head. "Oh, no, Mr. Potter, I could _never_—"

"Sit yourselves down, I mean it." Madame Pomfrey snapped at us, and we both shut up long enough to sit down on our respective beds. The movement of the bed made my head pound, and I winced, squeezing my eyes shut. "So what happened, you two?"

"She stirred too many times." Albus accused, his voice a little slurred now.

"No, no, no—he added too many kappa scales—" I retorted, my words sounding sloppy to my own ears. I paused, before I frowned. "Wait." I said after a second.

"_She _added too many kappa scales." Albus said after a second, sounding pleased with himself.

"And _he_ stirred too many times." I amended.

"Some sort of Potions accident then." Madame Pomfrey surmised. Albus attempted to tap the tip of his nose but instead just tapped his cheek. He frowned, displeased, as he tried to tap his nose, and was once again unsuccessful. She came over with two cups of a grayish potion that made me sick to look at. "Did you two hit your heads?" She asked, holding the cups tightly. I blinked up at her.

"Yes ma'am." I said after a moment, and I saw Albus try to tap his nose again, and poke his own eye. I snorted in laughter before I forced myself to freeze, hating the pain in my head. I took a few deep breaths.

"I can't find my nose." Albus noted while I was deep breathing. I cracked my eyes open to look at him. "Where did it go?" He demanded curiously, looking up at Madame Pomfrey.

"You two couldn't be more concussed if I'd smacked your heads myself." Madame Pomfrey murmured to herself, even as she passed us each a cup of the potion. "You're going to have a delightful few hours of vomiting ahead of you—"

"This smells gross…" I mumbled, looking down at the greyish, viscous liquid. A large bubble rose to the surface and popped, and I frowned down at it. "Gross." I repeated.

"I don't want to drink this." Albus agreed. "It looks like someone liquidated a wool sweater."

"I wouldn't like to do that." I said firmly.

"Drink it, both of you, while I give Ron and Harry a call and let them know that their respective wards are—"

"No, no, no, no, no." I repeated, looking up at Madame Pomfrey determinedly. "Don't call Ron. Oh, er—Mr. Ron? Don't call him."

"Drink your potion." She told Albus and I again. I looked across at Albus.

"She's calling Mr. Ron." I said solemnly. My head felt _really weird_.

"I call him Uncle Ron." Albus told me.

"We should probably drink the potion…" I said sadly, looking down at the liquid. "Before Mr. Uncle Ron comes."

"Agreed." Albus said, sounding equally put-out. "Three."

"Two." I said slowly.

"One." We chorused together, before we both took tilted our (very sore) heads back and gulped down the potion. I winced at the taste but swallowed every last drop before I let myself move the cup from my lips, and I dropped the cup onto my bedside table. "Gross." I murmured.

"Ick." Albus agreed.

"Dis-_gusting_."

"Ew." Al finished off, even as I felt my stomach roll, and I winced, wrapping my arms around my middle and closing my eyes determinedly. I wasn't going to throw up. I wasn't going to throw up. I wasn't going to throw up. "You okay?" I heard Al ask hesitantly as I bent over, pressing my forehead to my knees as I remained seated on the bed.

"I'm going to throw up," I moaned, closing my eyes.

"That's not good." Albus acknowledged. I reached out blindly, grabbing for my pillow and, upon finding it, I chucked it at his head. I heard a muffled "mmph" before I heard Albus hiss in pain. "Pillows still hurt my head. Great." Al muttered. "Weird that you're sick and I'm not." I growled in his vague direction; apparently the almost-trippy feeling of my head was wearing off, because now it just hurt, though the pounding was slightly more tolerable, and—I was _actually_ going to throw up.

I shoved myself to my feet, ignoring the jolt to my head as I sprinted to the bathroom, and the pain in my head multiplied by ten. I braced myself against the sink, gagging as reflexive tears built in my eyes and spilled over—I hated throwing up.

Albus sprinted in not a minute after I'd stumbled to the sink; he made it to the toilet before I heard the tell-tale gagging sound, and I turned on the water in the sink. "Hah," I said hoarsely, once my stomach had calmed down enough for me to trust myself to say a word.

"Shuttup," Albus coughed out, flipping me his middle finger.

"I'm pretending I didn't see that." I heard a man say, and while I didn't trust myself to throw a glance back to see who it was, the voice sounded familiar.

"Hullo Dad." Albus said dully, and as I'd been feeling better, I gagged again, my stomach seemingly flipping over. "Molly added too many kappa scales." He said, his voice hoarse but still sounding impish. I coughed, shakily grabbing a tissue from beside the sink and wiping at my mouth, trying to catch my breath.

"You stirred too many times!" I muttered, before bowing my head to press my fist to my mouth.

"Stop hassling Molly," I heard a woman's voice interrupt, and I heard high heels click across the floor of the bathroom as she came forward to put a hand on my back. Mrs. Weasley rubbed my back maternally. "Molly, sweetheart—" She tutted, pulling my hair back from my face as I gagged again. "What in the world did you two do?" Albus gagged again, across the room, and I dryheaved again, my breath leaving me.

"Blew up a potion, gave themselves both concussions." Madame Pomfrey said, coming up behind Mr. Potter. "You really didn't have to come, Harry, Hermione. They'll be fine. Spending a night in the hospital wing, and vomiting until the wee hours of the morning, but fine."

"No, no, I'll stay—" Hermione said, as I caught my breath enough to look at my legal guardian.

"You can go," I said to her, my voice hoarse despite my best effort to sound official. "I'm fine." Mrs. Weasley stared at me, her mouth slightly open as she blinked silently.

"You've left Hermione wordless—Molly, I have to admit, that's a new one." Mr. Potter said, a note of humor in his voice.

"Molly, you're not fine." Albus snapped at me, and I flashed him a resentful glare.

"No one _asked_ you, Potter."

"Yeah, well, too bad, I'm volunteering the information." Albus growled at me, his eyes narrowing as he looked up from his spot next to the toilet. "You're sick. Moreover, I'm sick and so not in the mood to have this conversation with you." Albus grabbed the wrapped roll of toilet paper on top of the normal dispenser, and chucked it at me. "Listen to me…"

"Remember when you decided my threats stopped being frightening?" I demanded hoarsely, glaring at him. I opened my mouth to go on before I felt my stomach roll again, and I turned back to the sink, dry heaving once more. Mrs. Weasley smoothed my hair back.

"The two of you, stop arguing." She said firmly. "You're both sick. I'm not letting you two tire yourselves out more by wasting your energy on arguments."

"We're not arguing." Al muttered. I released the sink, twisting away from Mrs. Weasley to press my back to the wall beside the sink; I sank to the ground, my knees slighting up to my chest. I pressed my forehead to my knees.

"We're just—bickering." I mumbled in agreement, lifting my free hand to massage the back of my head. The throbbing had gone away, but now it was just a dull ache.

"Miss Gale, if you think you're not going to throw up in the next few moments or so, would you care for a rehydration potion…?" Madame Pomfrey asked, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

"I wouldn't trust my stomach." I mumbled. I heard Albus gag again. "By the way," I said hoarsely, a consequence of trying to speak louder, as I looked up at Madame Pomfrey with some effort, "why on God's Green Earth would you give us a potion that would make us _vomit_?"

"Side effect of the potion," Mrs. Weasley said, crouching beside me. Her cool hand rested on my forehead, before she nodded once. "Along with the slight fever—definitely just a side effect, love, I'm sorry."

"Not love." I mumbled, looking away from the brief expression of hurt on her face. I wasn't feeling well, but I still knew that I didn't know her enough to call her by her first name, which meant that she couldn't call me 'love.'

"Alright then." She murmured after a moment. "Molly, do you want me to call someone? Your own mum, for instance?" I glanced sharply up at her. Had she honestly just offered to get my own mother here?

As I opened my mouth to decline, I felt my heart tug at me—how incredibly _nice_ it would be to have my own mother here. My head hurt and I was going to be throwing up, if Madame Pomfrey's hints were any indication, for the next several hours. Mums were awesome, I remembered vaguely, from the times I'd been sick as a little girl. They took care of you and made you soup and tea. Mum had used to buy me magazines when I was sick—the ones with glittery celebrities—and we'd make up stories about them. Granted, I was maybe six when this had gone on, but still. It'd been nice.

But I was fifteen now. It'd been years since my mum had done that. I was wishing more for this idealized figure of my mother in my brain than I actually wanted my mum.

"No." I said after a second, meeting her gaze tiredly. "No, don't call her."

"I'd want to know if my Rosie were hurt, even if we were estranged," Mrs. Weasley murmured.

"Don't call her." I said softly, looking towards Albus tiredly for back up. Albus looked at me tiredly across the room, and I let my blue gaze meet his green before I closed my eyes, leaning my sore head back against the wall.

"You should write Nate to tell him, though. He'd want to know about something like this." Albus told me quietly, and I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, wondering if I could pretend not to hear him. I considered how big the bathroom was before I exhaled shortly, opening my eyes to glare at Albus.

"My family, my business." I muttered finally.

"My friends, my advice." He retorted. I let my glare fade as a smile tugged at my lips.

"Who said we were friends?" I demanded, lightly mocking.

"Rawr." Albus mumbled at me, flapping a hand at me. "We settled this on the Quidditch pitch. And on the third floor hallway. We're friends." I let the subject drop as my stomach rolled again, and I shoved myself to my feet again, turning to the sink as I gagged. "Gross." Albus decided as I caught my breath, swiping at my cheeks.

"Mature." Mr. Potter murmured.

"Ugh, Dad…" Al grumbled, and Mr. Potter sighed, surveying the scene around him as Mrs. Weasley straightened up uncertainly beside the sink.

"Okay, Hermione, I think Molly and Albus are just fine with Poppy here to take care of them." He said firmly. "Throwing up is no fun but it's not going to hurt them as long as Poppy's here."

"I don't know, Harry…" Mrs. Weasley said concernedly, inspecting my very pale face. The half-glance I'd had in the mirror assured me that I looked like a brat.

"Hermione…" Mr. Potter whined as he stepped forward, and I was struck how childlike the savior of the Wizarding World could be, compared my own legal guardian. "I have to get back to work but Ginny will not be pleased with me if you don't come with me because then I'm inattentive, compared to you…"

"Harry, I will not abandon the child that you have entrusted to my care in order to make you look good to your wife." Hermione snapped, rounding on her friend as she smacked his arm. She turned back to me. "Are you alright? Do you want me to stay? It would be _absolutely no trouble at all._" She assured me, throwing Mr. Potter a withering look over her shoulder, and I swiped at my nose as I straightened up, still holding onto the sink; the worst part of throwing up was that it seemed to take everything out of you. Your eyes watered and your nose ran and your face drained of all color.

"I'm fine." I said awkwardly, pushing my hair out of my face. as I sagged against the wall again, sinking down.

"Sweetheart…" Mrs. Weasley said doubtfully.

"I'm _fine_," I said emphatically, looking at Albus across the room, my expression supposed to be a warning. I didn't want his input on this. I knew I wasn't fine. But this was not the point.

"Hermione, come talk to me for a minute, alright?" Mr. Potter said quietly. "Just outside." He insisted, when Mrs. Weasley didn't even look up, and I crossed my arms across my chest. Albus met my gaze across the room. "Mione," Mr. Potter insisted, and Mrs. Weasley rose to her feet. She glanced doubtfully down at me before following him out of the bathroom. Mr Potter closed the door behind them, and Albus sighed audibly.

"Where exactly is the harm in letting my aunt take care of you?" Al demanded quietly. I blushed, leaning my head back against the wall and closing my eyes. "Molly, come on." He said gently. "You're sick. My aunt doesn't want to-I dunno, replace your Mum or anything. She just wants to keep an eye on you until you're able to not throw up." Albus sighed, and I tried to ignore him; my stomach was starting to feel sick again, and the only thing worse than feeling sick was being lectured when I was sick. "I know you're independent, but this is becoming psychotic. People like you. They want to take care of you. That's a good thing."

"Al, please stop," I murmured tiredly.

"No." Al muttered. "You're—punishing yourself or something—who in their right minds pushes away the people who want to take care—" He cut himself off as I shoved myself to my feet again. I turned back to the sink, dryheaving, and Albus cursed under his breath before he pushed himself to his feet. He stumbled towards me, even as I gagged again, and he pulled my hair back from my face. "Sorry, sorry, sorry," He said softly, rubbing my back a little. "I'm sorry." I braced myself against the sink, my eyes squeezed shut as I hung my head. This was the worst.

"Scolding people when they're sick seems kind of rude." I mumbled, and Al chuckled, his hand running over my hair as he kept it carefully out of my face.

"Just cause I'm worried." Albus said softly, his voice soft. I inhaled slowly and deliberately, trying to make my stomach calm down-my abs were starting to hurt, because my stomach was trying to throw up nothing, now.

"I don't like that." I told him quietly, looking up at him. "I don't like making people worry about me."

"Bummer." Al responded softly. "That's kind of how friends work."

"Rose doesn't worry about me." I retorted. "I think you mean that's how _you_ work."

"Rose does too worry about you." Albus said, rolling his eyes. "She just knows that she would have pushed you away long before this if she hadn't let you have some space." I straightened up, and Albus released my hair, putting a hand on my waist. I looked up at him tiredly, though hooded eyes.

"Hands off, Potter." I mumbled, even as I stumbled a little against him.

"I'm just keeping you upright." He said, grinning weakly at me. His face turned whiter suddenly, and he let me go, turning back to the toilet and stumbling over, and I closed my eyes, letting my head drop. Gross.

"Alright, guys, we're going to go." Mrs. Weasley said, coming back in with Mr. Potter as Albus gagged over the toilet; I glanced up at them. "Oh, Al..." She murmured, hovering nervously in the middle of the room beside Mr. Potter. "Why couldn't Ron have come?" She demanded of Mr. Potter as he stopped beside her, watching his son with an odd kind of guarded concern. "He always takes care of Rosie and Hugo when they're sick-"

"Because the head of the auror department and the assistant head of the auror department can't _both_ not be there." Harry muttered. "If something went wrong, Kingsley would ahve both our heads, regardless of how long he's known us." Mr. Potter shook his head. "And Ginny's in meetings all day. I would have been decapitated, suggesting she go."

"Bye Molly-write me, sweetheart, alright?" Mrs. Weasley said fondly, coming forward, and I felt that unhappy wave of resentment towards her; why was she so nice to me? It bugged me. I couldn't hate someone arbitrarily-nothing I did was arbitrary. I wouldn't hate her for the hell of it.

I nodded, not meeting her gaze, and looking instead towards Albus. Mr. Potter crossed to his son, before awkwardly squeezing his shoulder. "You okay with me leaving, kiddo? I... could stay...?"

"Sound more enthusiastic, why don't you?" Albus suggested, and Mr. Potter chuckled, ruffling his son's hair.

"I swear, kiddo," He said lightly. "If I thought I was going to be any help at all, I'd insist I stay, but I know I'm the least helpful person ever when people are sick-"

"Yeah, no joke." Al muttered. Mr. Potter barked a laugh, and I felt my eyebrows shoot up despite my own headache. My own parents and I had never had this kind of report. I couldn't tell my parents to piss off, ever.

"Hush," Mr. Potter said, jokingly, but he straightened up. "I'll talk to you later, kiddo." He said to his son, before he glanced at me, a tight smile on his features. "Bye, Molly."

"Bye," I said awkwardly to Mr. Potter and Mrs. Weasley. They exited, Mrs. Weasley throwing me one last uncertain look before she went through the door. They said a brief good bye to Madame Pomfrey before the whooshing sound of the floo came all the way from Madame Pomfrey's office.

I glanced at Albus once I was sure they were gone. "You're close with your dad." I noted. Al shrugged a little. It was apparent in the awkward way he reacted that he didn't want to talk about it, so I swallowed any follow up questions I had. We sat there for a minute of silence before I heard the door in the Hospital Wing open.

"I heard my charming cousin and that new friend of his have recently been in the blowing themselves up business in Potions…" I heard Fred's humor-filled voice start loudly. "I'd like to visit them, ensure their limbs are attached, that sort of thing."

"Mr. Potter and Miss Gale aren't accepting visitors at this time." We heard Madame Pomfrey say sternly.

"Madame Pomfrey…"

"Mr. Weasley! You're a fifth year now, I'd think you'd quite grown out of this whining…"

"Madame Pomfrey…" That was Lily Potter's voice. If ever there was a girl who could charm her way into see patients in the Hospital Wing. "At least let someone in to check that Allie is still alive." I snorted in laughter.

"Allie?" I demanded hoarsely of Albus, and he groaned.

"I hate little sisters." He muttered.

"I agree with that whole-heartedly." I said shortly, one hand on the rim of the sink as I considered the chances of whether I was about to throw up or not.

"Leaving him alone with Molly isn't a good idea." Lily insisted, her voice earnest. "She'll kill him!"

"Smart girl, your sister." I muttered under my breath, and Al barked out a laugh.

"I assure you that—Mr. Weasley!"

Fred burst into the bathroom, grinning at us, and he strode to the sink, before he threw his arms around me, hugging me tightly. "I was so _worried_—" He said so earnestly that it almost made me laugh. Until I thought I might throw up again.

"Lemme go." I muttered to him, pushing him away, and he seemed to sense that I wasn't just being my usual grumpy self: he released me with enough time to let me rush to the sink. I threw up, my stomach turning inside out, and Fred made an ick noise behind me.

"That's disgusting." He said shortly.

"_That's_ why Madame Pomfrey told you not to come in." Albus corrected hoarsely. "We're having the times of our lives in here."

"I can tell." Fred said, carefully stepping backwards from me as I gagged again; Al pushed himself up off the ground and stumbled back over, pulling my hair back again. My eyes began to water, and as I finished gagging, I straightened up, swiping at my face. "Shit, you guys really hurt yourselves, didn't you?" He demanded, and for a moment, I heard real concern. And then he was back to being Fred. "Naughty Molly and Albus. I can't leave you two alone for one Potions class—"

"Yeah, cause _you_ would have saved us from concussing ourselves." I muttered shakily, grabbing a tissue to wipe my mouth with, and Albus watched me carefully.

"I am brilliant at Potions, I'll have you know." Fred said, grinning at me smugly.

"He is. I'm better at Transfiguration, though, so, _ha_." Albus stuck his tongue out at Fred.

"You have to be good at Potions to be an auror." Fred said, grinning at Albus. I rolled my eyes, pressing my hand to my forehead when a wave of nausea hit me; Al put a hand on my arm, as I felt the blood drain from my face (again). "Molls..." He said sympathetically.

"I hate this." I mumbled.

"Weird. You _look_ like you're just having a party—" Fred began, and I reached out, smacking his chest with my hand.

I was going to kill Fred Weasley before I finished Hogwarts.

* * *

"What do you want to do next week in Hogsmeade? I mean—not often that we get Halloween and Hogsmeade in one day..." Fred asked Al, that night, as he sat between Al's and my bed that night after dinner. In the hours since we'd hurt ourselves, the throwing up had subsided, though Madame Pomfrey said we could look forward to another round at about midnight. Yay.

"Ew, I forgot next week is the Halloween dance." I muttered, pushing my hair out of my face, and Al glanced up at me from his spot on the bed beside mine, his eyebrows raised. "Ew." I was sitting cross legged on my bed, and Al had his covers up around his shoulders like a cape. Fred's feet were kicked up on the end of Al's bed, and he had his Transfiguration book open on his lap, his quill perched there idly.

"I thought girls liked dances." Albus said after a second.

"Rose likes dances." I corrected, pressing my lips together to resist a smile as Albus pulled the covers more around his shoulders—he looked more and more like a superhero with that stupid blanket-cape.

"Speaking of Rose—where is your ever-so-kind best friend?" Fred asked.

"Probably off somewhere with-is she still with Horace?" I asked, tilting my head to the side.

"I hope not." Al said, rolling his eyes."I hate him."

"Why?"

"Becuase he's a wimp at quidditch so he just...ugh, he's just a wimp." Al shook his head. "Weird choice for Rosie." He shrugged a little. "But back to you. I thought girls liked dances."

"I hate them." I muttered, pushing my hair out of my eyes as I picked at my pajamas—I hated Hospital Wing pajamas. They were itchy and I always got the feeling they hadn't been washed since last worn. Gross.

"What's to hate?" Al demanded, and I glanced back up at him. "There's music, and people. You talk and eat and sit and stand and dance." Al was studying my face now, and I resisted the urge to demand he look else where—I hated that when he looked at me for too long, it looked like he knew what I was thinking. "What's to hate?" He repeated.

"Boys are stupid." I said, my maturity shining through, and Fred snorted in laughter; I flashed the boys a half smile. "No, it just seems like a lot of work, not a lot of pay off." I shrugged. "I put on shoes that give me blisters and do my hair pretty and wear a dress that would make my mother uncomfortable—for what?" I shrugged. "I've also only ever had dates to the dances, rather than real boyfriends, so it's always been awkward, a kind of get-to-know-you thing." I pulled a face. "Very uncomfortable."

"I love dances." Fred said with a smug grin, leaning back in the chair. "Since third year, I've hooked up with at least one girl at each dance."

"Ew!" I muttered, grabbing my pillow and smacking his arm with it. "Ew, ew, ew, ew—Fred, you're such a—slut. A man-slut." I frowned at him. "That's disgusting." I snapped, before I stuck my tongue out at him for a second. "I expected better from you." I added after a second, before shaking my head.

"She's right. You are a man-slut." Albus agreed, grinning at his cousin. "Maybe a man-whore?"

"Oh, now, don't pretend you're not on the same level as me." Fred scoffed, and I swallowed, not saying anything, as my gaze found Albus's. Albus had seemingly stopped his manslut ways once we'd become friends-I literally hadn't seen him flirt with a _single _girl since we'd come back to Hogwarts. But here Fred was, saying that. Had I just... missed it?

Albus snorted in laughter. "I'm not _that_ bad. I didn't hook with any girls I wasn't dating in third year—" Al said, shaking his head. "And I bailed on the Christmas dance last year so I didn't do that _then_—"

"Oh, no, that was a good dance." I responded, glancing up at him; that'd been the singular dance I'd ever attended with a boyfriend. I'd gone with Mikey, as part of the ten seconds we'd dated. "That was fun. Why'd you bail?"

"Just decided not to." He said cryptically.

"He was a wimp." Fred said, flashing me a grin. "The girl he wanted to ask was going with somebody else. Made him awkward." Fred snorted in laughter, glancing at Albus, who was glaring at him, before he looked back to me. "I liked that dance though—that was the first itme that I saw Miss Molly Gale in action." He said significantly, and I spared him an irritated glance. What was he talking about? "Before that you weren't so much on my radar—I mean, I thought you were nice, I guess, but you'd spoken to me maybe twice and even thought Rose was always rattling on about you over breaks I wasn't really paying attention to her—" He shrugged. "But I saw you with Mikey and realized that he was in so far over his head that it was literally worth laughing at, and that impressed me."

"What does _that _mean?" I demanded.

"Mikey speaks maybe three words every hour." Fred said, rolling his eyes. "You're always armed with three snarky comments and at least one shut-that-down remark." Fred said, grinning unrepentantly as I glared at him. "You're just on...different levels."

"No—Mikey was a really nice boyfriend—and he was cute..." I pulled a face at this: Mikey was attractive, sure, but nothing to brag about. "He even dumped me nicely." I pointed out after a second, jumping back on that argument. "He gave me a chocolate frog from Honeydukes—"

"You don't like chocolate frogs." Albus muttered, frowning, and my gaze flicked to him automatically, although a second later I wish I hadn't—he'd gotten that moody look back on his face, the darkness encroaching in his green eyes. I hated it when he did this—it made my head hurt. I couldn't think through why he got this irritated, angry, grumpy, call-it-what-you-will sometimes. It was on no consistent basis, and it made me want to shake him.

"Yeah." I muttered, feeling a blush start on my neck as my gaze refused to move from Albus.

"He was your boyfriend. He should have known that." Albus pointed out quietly. I swallowed, before I glared at him.

"It's just food. Rory didn't know that either." I muttered.

"And look how that turned out." He said irritatedly. I grabbed my wand from the table and flicked it at the curtain that was across the room, between two empty beds; it slid towards us, slipping between Al's and my beds, and Fred scrambled onto my bed as the curtain made Albus disappear.

Just the way I wanted it.

* * *

**A/N: **While I was writing this chapter, I dislocated my kneecap, and it successfully demolished the inside of my knee. I tore something like three ligaments/tendons. In a basketball game where we were losing by thirty. I had a fun day, January 11, 2011. OMG 1/11/11 SO MANY 1s!

Anyway, the hopsital gave me Percocet. Which made me high (in the first draft of this sentence, I wrote "which made me fly" which speaks for itself on my state of mind). I'm trying my hardest (wrote "harded" there the first time) to sound sober, but it's not really working. So cut me some slack, kids. I think I'm going to use my friend as a beta for this just so I don't sound percocet-y, but if it becomes apparent I didn't, then you should be nice to me. I'm not having a fun time with my knee, right now.

Thanks reviewerpeople!

**angel2  
Molivline  
SpencerReidFan89  
NotADreamNotYetANightmare  
KaitlynEmmaRose  
LeShawnaseville15  
Allen Pitt**


	13. Hate On Me

**Hate On Me**

_I'm gon' be who I be and I don't feel no faults  
For all the lies that you bought.  
You can try as you may,  
Bring me down, but I say,  
That it ain't up to you…  
Hate on me, Hater, now or later,  
'Cause I'm gonna do me.  
—Glee Cast_

"Alright, we'll resume talking about the goblin wars next week." Professor Binns said slowly that Friday, and I slammed my book shut in relief. I shoved it into my bag, closing my notebook too. I hated this class.

It'd been four days since Albus had been a jerk, and I'd not talked to him since. It'd been four mind-numbing days of silence. And not just because I was one of those annoying girls who threw around the silent treatment like every three-year-old. It was because I had nothing to say. I knew Albus wasn't a jerk, but until he pulled it together and remembered to not _act _likeone, I wasn't going to stick around and let him act like that to me.

Unfortunately, it was lonely without Albus, or Fred. Calmer, more sane, but lonely. Rosie was too preoccupied with whatever boy was up next—she'd dumped Horace, and now she needed to turn her charm on full drive to have a boyfriend to take her to the Halloween dance—to hang out with me, so I'd actually been running solo, and it was a little more than pathetic. I'd skipped breakfast this morning because eating alone was too daunting a prospect. And today in particular had been rough; I'd had to be partners with Maria Sapienti in Transfiguration, who was this simpering Hufflepuff girl who was constantly sucking up to the teacher, and it had taken every ounce of patience I possessed to not smack her. I'd _finally _gotten a letter from Nate from my owl in between classes, but I hadn't had a chance to read it yet. Which put me in a weird mood too, because Nate might have written nice things ("good plan, Molly!") or things that would make my job infinitely harder (anything from "Molly, you're an idiot" to "don't send Cory home because Dad'll flip"). So I needed to find myself a nice quiet spot and read it.

I forced myself to my feet, passing one row of desks, then another. I was _so close _to getting out of the classroom before a figure stepped in my path. I lifted my glare from the floor to look up at the person, my gaze making it clear that I was _not _in a good mood.

"Why so lonely?" Erik Zabini demanded as I squared up to him. Erik was a Slytherin boy my year, and he was exceptionally tall—weirdly, so, almost, as well as extremely thin. He had thick brown hair that was kind of messy and curly and odd: it never looked quite settled, and he was forever fussing with it. "Haven't seen Potter and Weasley around…"

"Fuck off." I muttered irritatedly, trying to push past him, but Erik frowned down at me.

"Now, Gale, stop it—that's just so rude, to not respond to people." Erik said, and I exhaled shortly.

"Erik, let me go past." I said lowly, glaring viciously at him. Erik wasn't even a bully—he was just fond of hassling people. A few seconds of angry-voice and he'd let me go; I didn't even bother trying to push past him again. I'd get by soon enough.

"But I haven't dropped in on you in a while, and since you've not been with the Pothead or the Weasel recently, it seemed like the right time—" He said, shrugging, and I straightened up, my eyes narrowing on him. If I was truly on the offensive, I could crush Voldemort with my verbal-meanness skills. I sometimes think I was put in the wrong house; surely no Gryffindor is supposed to have this much pride in their ability to tear apart her opponent.

"You'd think with those oversized ears of yours you'd be able to hear me, but maybe your brain, small as it is, can't comprehend the information—_let me go past, Erik._" I repeated, my voice quick and low. I wouldn't get in trouble with teachers—I was much, much sneakier than that. Erik blushed scarlet as he glared down at me, and I raised my eyebrows as he didn't respond for a second.

"Oh, Erik, why are you slumming with a Gryffindor…?" Celia asked as she came up, her bag slung over one shoulder as she flipped her hair over the other. Her lips pursed judgmentally as she looked over me. Celia had come to rescue Erik. Erik wasn't good enough at being mean to be able to catch up with my insult and throw one back; Celia, however, was. Good. I had some steam to blow off and I needed a proper opponent. "Molly, charming to see you." Celia said sarcastically.

"The pleasure's mine," I said coldly. "Erik was just getting out of my way." I looked expectantly at Erik, who glanced uncomfortably at Celia. Celia ignored him—Erik Zabini was the weaker half of this duo, anyway. I didn't like Celia, but we had a similar attitude on people who weren't any good at snarky rhetoric; they were not worth our time.

"Odd, because I could have sworn you were getting in Erik's way…" Celia said, the sarcastic smile still in place.

"I'd have to disagree, Celia." I said icily. "Slytherin kids are always in the way, though. I suppose it's not even your fault." I smirked, glancing from Celia, to Erik, and back again to the girl. "Raised by death eaters, can't expect any better—" Celia's sarcastic smile dropped as pure loathing colored her face red, and Erik's expression turned sour; he didn't like the reference to his father's former profession anymore than Celia.

"At least my father raised me with a soul unlike you—heartless bitch even scared away the sainted Rory Corner!" She hissed at me immediately, the words thrown back at me.

"I seem to remember dumping _him_, Celia—"

"Only because you did everything _but_ cheat with the Pothead—"

"Original." I bit out scathingly. "Me cheating on Rory with Albus—that rumor, again?" I demanded, my eyes narrowing. "I'm disappointed, Celia." I drew out the words, my gaze focusing meanly on her. "What, are you picking up your gossip from the fourth years now?" I scoffed out. Celia's face turned several shades redder, and I began to wonder if I should have been worried about her health. Couldn't be healthy to have that much blood in your face.

When Celia didn't respond in a second, I smirked and pushed between Celia and Erik wordlessly. They let me go, and I felt a satisfied smirk grace my lips; it wasn't very Gryffindor-y of me, but I did love winning a good verbal sparring match with Celia and her friends. It was _the _best way to get rid of stress.

I slipped between the desks and out the door, ignoring a few worried glances from fourth years; since my shut-down of Cassandra Kemper, they'd not spoken to me or gotten in my way. It was amazing. Now all I had to do was make it to the Common Room and I was free from this hellish week and the obnoxious people who'd made it worse.

"Molly!" I heard someone call behind me. I resisted the urge to scream, stopping and taking a deep breath. I was a big girl. Screaming at people who had caught me at a bad time wasn't acceptable.

I turned to face the owner of the voice, my gaze sweeping over the expansive hallway before I growled a little. Rory freaking Corner was grinning at me as he approached, and I was looking like/feeling like hell. Delightful. My _favorite._ I allowed myself to shrug my shoulders in an effort to loosen myself up, but then I just pushed my hair out of my face, meeting Rory's gaze with a dark expression. I hadn't talked to Rory since we'd broken up. I didn't want to break that streak right now. "Rory." I said, quietly, and his gaze swept my face.

"Bad day?" He guessed with surprising accuracy, and I sighed quietly; we were exchanging pleasantries, now. I hated pleasantries.

"Bad week." I corrected. He nodded, rubbing the back of his head and looking awkwardly away from me.

"Sorry about that." He said, and I shrugged once.

"What do you want?" I asked bluntly, and Rory chuckled.

"Always straight to the point with you, huh?" He asked, and I raised my eyebrows. "Alright, alright—I noticed you haven't been hanging out with Potter recently." He said carefully, before he looked back at me, his face completely open. I wanted to shake him and tell him to be more guarded, but I restrained myself. "Your bad week have anything to do with that?"

"I don't want to talk to you about Potter. Or anyone." I said shortly. Rory's gaze searched my face.

"Because you guys started dating and it didn't go well or—" He tried carefully.

"No." I cut him off, the word ending that thought where it stood.

"I just had to check that you two hadn't—started—dating or something before I ask the next question—"

"Do you have a point you'd like to make or can I walk away now?" I demanded. Rory hung his head in defeat, and I crossed my arms over my chest.

"This would be another one of those situations where I'm a disaster at explaining what I'm trying to do, here, tactfully." Rory murmured, looking up meekly, and I glared at him. I didn't have patience for my ex-boyfriends or meek people. Meek ex-boyfriends made me want to kill people. "The point of me standing here with absolutely no dignity is that—tomorrow, to the dance, will you be my date?"

I looked away, studying the wall for a moment while I thought over his question, before I looked back at him. "Rory," I said quietly, my voice a clear warning even with something as simple as his name: I didn't want to pursue this train of thought a step farther. "I dumped you. That means that we stop going places together."

"Then let's go as friends." He cajoled.

"Rory." I repeated.

"I am harmless as a _fly_ Molly." Rory said, holding his hands up. "Friendship-only dance. I promise. I won't even get you a corsage or anything." He tried, and I winced, closing my eyes and massaging my temple with two fingers. "Mol-ly," He sang, sounding startlingly like Cal and Ellie, and I looked sharply back at him.

"Rory, no." I said quietly. His smile dimmed. "I'm sorry. I'm not doing this again—you get too jealous." I shook my head. "I'm not doing this." I began to push past him, and he caught my hand, pulling me back. I let my hand remain limp in his—he had to know I was serious about this.

"Molly, I'm just—" He sighed softly, sounding serious as I felt. "I screwed up." He admitted, his voice filled with defeat as he squeezed my hand lightly. "I shouldn't have accused you of cheating on me with Potter." I pulled my hand from his, and crossed my arms over my chest, not liking the way this sounded. Rory's gaze searched my face, before he seemed to recognize that this begging thing wasn't getting him points. "Cut me a break, here." He said finally, his voice soft as he took a step forward, closing the little space between us. "I'm not a bad guy."

I took a deliberate step backwards, keeping a few inches between us. "Rory, I don't think you're an awful guy, but I think when you get jealous, you act like an asshole." I said honestly, my voice low. "And I'm don't stick around for that.

"I apologized." Rory pointed out.

"I know." I said quietly. "But you don't know me if you think I would ever cheat. On anyone."

"I do too know you." Rory said, frowning now.

"Then why'd you accuse me of it?" I demanded skeptically.

"Because it's hard not to get jealous when you spend all of your time with a guy who so clearly wants you." Rory muttered, and I exhaled shortly. I was being nice before. Now Rory was in for it.

"I don't spend all of my free time with him, and he doesn't _want_ me." I hissed at Rory, glaring angrily up at him.

"For a girl who's so smart, you're pretty oblivious," Rory muttered; he sounded enormously uncomfortable with being pushed to admitting this, but now we were here. "He wants you, Molly. And you're just hanging out with him like—like—" Rory scrambled for a moment, before he brought his voice down, his expression turning gentle once more, "Like he's just another friend, but I am a guy, and I know the game he's playing—he's getting closer and closer to you until it just makes sense to date. I saw James do it with Sera, but it took him five freaking years—I swear, Albus is—"

"Stop it." I snapped. Rory raised his eyebrows. "I'm not going to the dance with you and I'm not going to stand here while you trash Albus. Bye." I pushed past him, and this time, Rory let me go.

I walked down the hallway, shifting my school bag high enough on one shoulder so I could pull my hair back while I walked, snapping my ponytail holder around it, before I ducked down a side hallway, then into the staircases. Of course Rory had chosen today of all days—the gods had it out for me this week.

At least I still had Nate's letter to look forward to. I was sure he wasn't angry now—or at least, as relatively sure as I could be without actually _knowing_ how angry he was. I was queen of the Gale Family. Nate never contradicted me, because the calls I made were law.

I took the stairs up two at a time, before I turned sharply and went up the last staircase. I slipped inside the Gryffindor portrait hole and crossed to a chair at one of the little tables around the empty Common Room; the day before Halloween, people were still out on the grounds, getting the last bits of sunlight before Hogwarts was permanently buried in snow.

I sank down in the chair, dropping my bag onto the table and rifling through it, before I found the envelope with Nate's ridiculously messy scrawl on it, and I settled myself in the chair, tearing open the letter. I pulled the paper out and unfolded it.

* * *

_Molly—_

_It took me a while to figure out what to say to you here. You might have noticed the delay. Knowing you, you created twelve different godawful disaster situations that had stopped me from replying. But the reason it took me so long was because I know, in the long run, my killing you would be bad. Even if that's what I want to do._

_Why didn't you tell me about the custody change? Why in the name of God wouldn't you tell me? I'm not like Cormac, I'm not some little kid that needs to be protected. I'm not even a full year younger than you. I know you're freaking out about Cory—and I know you are, don't even try that "I'm the big sister" shit, I'm getting tired of it, you're human, just like the rest of us, and you're going to be scared as I am about this disaster of a family we're part of—but that is absolutely no excuse. _

_This thing we're doing with our parents—this is a war on two fronts. You're fighting it from far away, and you took a blow when Dad kicked you out, and I'm not saying that what I live with every day somehow measures up to that. But I am fighting this _every day _and you keeping stuff from me is making it harder. You're the General in this war, Molly, and I can't deny that, but in your absence, I'm filling in. You left me here and I'm holding down this fort but I need to know whatever you know. You're not allowed to leave me fighting and then blind me._

_Send Cormac here for break. And so you know—he's not stupid. He'll catch on to this. And God help us when that happens. You're setting this up all wrong, Molly. It's going to blow up in your face._

_Nate_

* * *

I felt my stomach turnover as I eyed the paper in front of me, feeling my eyes sting.

Nate _was_ angry with me.

I didn't even know what to do with this. Nate was _Nate_. He was my little brother. I was queen and he wandered around and carried out my orders. But here he was—this was the equivalent of Gale Family mutiny.

It was worse than his rebellion: every word that he'd written was true. I'd kept stuff from him. And he _was_ fighting the same war I was. And I'd betrayed him by not telling him. This was mutiny, sure—but I'd done it _first_.

I looked at the letter again. I rarely screwed up, because there wasn't room in my life for my own mistakes, in addition to the ones that my parents made. Our family would implode if Nate and I hadn't always been on the right road. But I'd screwed up.

Fuck.

I looked up, swallowing against my sudden desire to cry. Bad week. Bad letter. Bad. I was better than this girl who screwed up and cried about it. Then again—here I was. Being this girl. Who screwed up and wanted to cry. I'd crushed the desire to cry out of me—people who cried for stupid things were weak. I didn't even cry much at funerals—I teared up, and that was only when I was right and truly sad. The first time I'd cried in years was the night Dad had kicked me out. I was getting soft.

I felt a wave of self-disgust curl in my chest, smothering my lungs and making my heartbeat double; I felt like crying. Ew. I was private. Obsessively so. I didn't cry. Especially not in the _Common Room_. But being friends with the ever-chipper duo Fred and Albus was making me soft.

I pushed myself to my feet, leaving my bag where it was, and I went towards the dormitories, swerving towards the boys' one; neither Al nor Fred were in the Common Room, and Rose was somewhere with Charlie Kehler, the bone-headed Hufflepuff boy she wanted to secure as a date for tomorrow night. Frustration filled me as I took the stairs up two at a time once more. I went round and round the spiral, rage and the desire to cry battling in my lungs, making it hard to breathe.

I reached the sixth-year boys' dormitory, and I stood in front of it for a second, before I knocked on the door. There was a vague scuffle on the other side and something that sounded like it might have been a shoe hit the door, and I rolled my eyes, shoving open the door. Fred was standing on the trunk at the end of his bed, while Albus was, from the waist down, under his bed, with a pillow in one hand, his other clutching his wand. I blinked, taking in the scene before me, before I marched over to where Al was laying. I dropped the letter down, watching it waft slowly down to land on his face, and Albus exhaled shortly, blowing the letter off his face and snatching it up with his now-pillowless hand. He glanced up at me, his eyebrows hiding a little beneath the black fringe of her hair.

"What's this?" He demanded.

"You said Nate wouldn't be mad." I muttered. Albus blinked at me, and I pushed my hair out of my face: Al obviously wasn't catching on. "He's mad at me." I elaborated. "Nate's never mad at me. He's younger than me. I'm—I'm the General and he's my lieutenant. I give orders and he takes them and it—works." I swallowed. "He doesn't get mad at me." Albus glanced down at the letter in his hand. He took a few seconds, skimming the letter, before he winced audibly, and I sunk miserably onto the trunk, my arms wrapped around my stomach. Fred jumped off his trunk, passing me and squeezing my shoulder comfortingly before he ducked out of his room. Albus took almost a minute of terrifying silence, reading the letter, and I was just beginning to regret handing him the letter, coming up here, being friends with him at all when he looked up, his gaze sympathetic.

"He's not mad." Albus said softly. I stared at him.

"I knew you needed glasses—I didn't realize you were actually blind." I said harshly, and Albus raised his eyebrows.

"He's not mad." Albus repeated after a moment. I stared at him wordlessly, and he sighed. "He's panicking." Albus clarified, looking back down at the paper, and I gritted my teeth together.

"I would know if he was panicking." I said after a second. "He's my brother."

"And he has _always _been playing a game of follow the leader with you." Albus murmured. "Except this time, you don't have a game plan." Albus sighed. "He's only just now seeing that."

"I have a game plan!" I said, my voice jumping up an octave, and Albus frowned me; my eyes stung, and I felt my vision waver as tears blurred my ability to see. I swiped at my eyes with my sleeve, and Albus exhaled softly, pushing himself into a crouching position before me.

"Molly," He said softly, edging closer to me. "You need to relax."

"I can't relax." I said harshly. "I'm already this girl who cries and—"

"Crying isn't bad." Albus murmured.

"Not when something bad has happened but I'm just—"

"Just nothing." Albus cut me off. "You're fifteen and this is a bad thing going on in your family. Crying's allowed." I glared at him, but he didn't take the bait.

"I don't cry." I told him after a second, looking away. I pushed my hair out of my face—what of it had escaped my ponytail, anyway.

"Maybe that's not good." He suggested quietly, his voice solemn. I swallowed. "And to be entirely honest—you're not yet crying." He said, with a small smile, and I chuckled wetly, looking away. "You stopped the tears before they fell." I nodded, looking back to Albus. He was close to me, his hands on my knees, though I wasn't sure when that had happened.

"I'm sorry." I told him after a second. "I'm having the week from hell and I don't usually do this."

"I know that." He murmured. He let me have a moment before he continued. "What happened to make this week so bad?" He asked, grinning. "Do I need to beat anybody up?" I smiled a little, looking down.

"Nah," I said softly. "Just rough."

"What else happened?" He asked me insistently, his voice soft.

"Doesn't matter." I admitted softly. "Just whining."

"Matters to me." Albus insisted.

"Rose has been with Charlie all week and I hate the Hufflepuffs because they're an insufferable group of idiots." I admitted softly, tilting my head to the side and stretching my neck, then doing it on the other side; I rubbed this side, trying to get rid of the sore feeling. "And I've been freaking out about this letter, and Rory was bugging the bajeezus out of me today and I haven't been with you guys because I was—mad at you, and it just sucked." I said lowly.

"I didn't like this week either." Albus noted quietly. He smiled at me. "I missed you."

"I was in the same room with you for several lessons and in the Great Hall all the time—" I pointed out, and Albus snorted in laughter.

"I missed you still." He said, shrugging. "You're usually making some snarky comment right beside me. And then you weren't. I miss having to constantly defend my actions."

"I'm not that bad." I muttered, a small smile on my lips, and Albus chuckled.

"Yeah you are." He retorted.

"I am not." I retorted.

"Molly, I know you." He said firmly. "You are." I pressed my lips together, before I tilted my head to the side. "Pass me my letter, please?" I asked softly.

"Sure." He passed it to me, sitting back on his knees, his hands leaving my knees as he reached for the letter and passed it to me. It was still open, and he glanced at a couple of lines of it as it moved into my hands, before he looked up at me. "This game plan you keep referencing—does it exist?" He asked. I swallowed.

"In a way." I said softly, looking down at the letter. "I want to send Cormac home for Winter Break, use that as evidence that Dad's safe around Cormac. I have to get into another argument with your dad, though, which I'm not looking forward to." I shrugged. "That sounds like an okay plan, sort of, in a vague way, but the problem is, I'm almost sure—" I fell silent, looking at Albus seriously. "My dad is getting worse. Whatever it is that's going on with him, it's not getting better." I shook my head. "This is going to get worse before it gets better." I predicted softly.

"I hope not." Albus murmured. "But know if it does—I want to help. However you need." He shrugged. "I'm not going to lecture you anymore on your dad, I promise."

"Good." I sighed, looking away from Albus again—it was rough, holding Al's gaze that long.

"One more annoying thing to say…" He said quietly, his voice filled with resignation. "How'd Rory bother you?"

"Doesn't matter." I muttered automatically, looking down at the letter. He raised his eyebrows.

"Matters to me." He murmured.

"He wasn't being that bad he was just—"

"Molly, please." Albus said, wincing, and I fell silent.

"He asked me to the dance." I said finally.

"You told him no." Albus checked, and I lifted my gaze to him. The wince on his face was still there—he knew he sounded odd, questioning me about Rory.

"What do you care?" I asked gently.

"He's an _actual _asshole and I try to make sure girls I'm friends with don't date them." Albus said carefully. I studied him. Something more was wrong. He was lying to me.

"I'm not stupid." I said after a second. "Like I'd give him a second chance. I told him no." Al nodded.

"Fine." He said quietly. "Good."

"Why do you hate Rory?" I asked softly. Albus's smile faded, and he pressed his lips together, eying me carefully.

"Because he hurt you." Albus said after a second, his words simple, and I exhaled.

"He didn't hurt me." I said after a second, keeping my voice steady.

"I think he did." Al said, shrugging a little. "You deserve better than him and he fooled you into thinking he was good enough for you." Albus looked at me frankly.

I studied Albus, my gaze, for once, piercing his green eyes as I struggled to understand what he was doing, here. Albus showed varying degrees of niceness—he'd acted like a complete asshole in our conversation in the Hospital Wing. But he was being nice, now. Really, really nice.

"You think he wasn't good enough for me?" I asked softly, and Al nodded. "He's a prefect and a sixth-year."

"Doesn't make a difference if he were head boy." Al said simply. "He wasn't good enough for you." I stared at Albus. "Besides, Liam's a prefect. And he's maybe the biggest git we know."

"Erik Zabini actually holds that title with me." I murmured, pushing my hair out of my face, and Albus raising his eyebrows.

"Erik's been bugging you?" He asked. I shrugged, rolling my eyes.

"Just today, but you know me. I shut that down." I half-smiled at Albus, and Al chuckled, running a hand over his hair. He knew I could take care of myself. And he trusted me to. With everyone but my father.

I swallowed, considering Albus's words, before I pulled the pony tail out of my hair and let my hair fall on my shoulders. "Thank you." I said quietly. Albus waited for me to go on—say what it was I was thanking him for, but I didn't go on.

"For what?" He asked me quietly.

"You keep me sane, I think." I admitted softly, leaining against his bed post. "Normally someone like you would bug the bajeezus out of me—and you did, for a while." I admitted. "But you definitely keep me sane."

"I keep you sane?" He asked, chuckling. "I feel like you informed me that I was insane as recently as last week."

"You are by no means sane." I agreed, smiling at him. "But Rose is as high maintenance as everyone else in my life. My parents, my best friend, my sister and brothers all need all of me." I swallowed. "You don't demand anything from me. It's…" I exhaled. "Nice."

"I am low-maintenance." Albus echoed. "Thank you, I think."

"Trust me, from me," I said seriously, "that's one of the nicest things I could say." I swallowed—I'd just said one of the nicest things I could say to Albus. Time to get out. "I should go but—thank you." I said softly, and he nodded once. I pushed myself to my feetwalking around his bed. I made it almost all the way to the door before he spoke again.

"See you at dinner?" He asked, and I rolled my eyes.

"Better bring Fred as a buffer, lest I kill you." I muttered, and he snorted in laughter as I slipped out his door, and closed it quietly behind me. I leaned back against the door, glad for the relative privacy of the empty staircase as I tilted my head back, looking up at the ceiling and berating myself for forgiving Albus so quickly. He'd broken all my rules. He'd pushed me on family stuff, on personal information, and been sort of generally annoying, as he so often was. Why had I thanked him? Why had I set up conditions to dinner, but agreed to go?

Why hadn't I just said no?

* * *

"Molly…"

"I'm not having this conversation."

"Just try it on." Rose snapped.

"No point. Because I will not be buying it." I pointed out. We were standing in one of the seemingly thousands of dress shops in Hogsmeade, trying on dresses for the dance that night. Or rather, Rose was trying on dresses and I was trying not to try on dresses. I hated clothes shopping with Rose. It didn't help that she was taller and thinner than me (so everything looked better on her than it _ever_ would on me) but aside from that, Rose was high maintenance. She needed feedback on every single dress.

"It's black." She said, as if that added to the allure of the dress.

"Yes it is." I acknowledged, glancing up briefly from the parchment I was trying to write a suitable letter to Nate on. I frowned at the dress, before I looked back to Rose, who was, herself, standing in one of the dresses she was trying on. "Rose, that dress needs…" I searched for a tactful way to say this, before I decided to just go for it. "It needs more fabric." I said after a second.

"What?" She demanded, looking down at the dress she had on. It was one shouldered with a sweeping neck-line, and incredibly short. There was some sort of large fluffy fabric-flower on one shoulder, and the dress itself was black. I rolled my eyes. What a typical, dramatic, Rose-like choice. She tugged at the bottom. "It's not _that_ short."

"Sit down." I gestured with the end of my quill, and she did so; I snorted in laughter as her dress slid up and I saw a flash of her underwear. "You are wearing underwear with unicorns on them." I informed her, and she grinned unrepentantly at me. "Which gets you points, by the way."

"I appreciate that." She said, grinning at me. "And I suppose you're right. Too short." She pushed herself back to her feet, still holding up the dress she expected me to be trying on. "I will change only if you try this on."

"That is a monstrosity." I told her. "I'm not putting that on. I don't care what I'm being offered."

"It is _not_ a monstrosity. I wouldn't pick out a _monstrosity_ for you to try on." Rose said, frowning at the dress. "I mean, a little slutty, yes. But wouldn't it be fun to make Rory regret getting on your bad side…" She snorted in laughter. "Not that he doesn't regret that already, but—"

"I am not wearing a short dress to make Rory regret being as asshole." I said, narrowing my eyes at Rose. "That's more a _you_ move."

"Oh hush, I'm not that bad." Rose said. I rolled my eyes. "If I find a more acceptable dress, would you—"

"No, because I'm not going to the dance." I informed her.

"Boring." Rose pointed out, and I glared at her.

"No guy asked me and you're going with someone. I'm not going to be an awkward third wheel." I said, and Rose shrugged; she wasn't going to contradict that it would be awkward if I were there with her and Charlie.

"You should have said yes to Rory." She said after a second. I'd told her Rory asked me to the dance as some sort of conciliatory move, but I'd turned him down. She hadn't reacted at the time, which I'd thought was a good sign; she'd probably agreed with me. But evidently not.

"No." I said, shaking my head. "And Albus voted no on that too, so obviously—"

"Albus's vote doesn't count." Rose said easily, and I raised my eyebrows. Rose was all for discounting people who didn't agree with her—but very rarely did her cousin's opinion _not count_. Rose and Al had grown up together, and they'd been best friends as kids. Now, they'd grown apart a bit, but not so much that she'd simply dismiss him.

"Why not?" I asked her, my voice emotionless, and she fixed me with a look.

"Because Albus thinks Rory is an asshole." She said in the overly sugary voice I liked to use with Cormac, when I was telling him something obvious.

"Albus thinks that Rory is an asshole, because he is." I said, narrowing my eyes at Rose, now.

"Not really." She said distractedly, turning away from me and putting the dress on one of the racks behind her as she looked through them. I stared at Rose wordlessly for a moment; had I contradicted her choice to dump a guy, I would have gotten my ass kicked into next week by a tantrum. Here she was, telling me my ex wasn't a git, and she just wanted it to go over great with me.

"What?" I asked after a second, the only word I could really find. Rose didn't respond, and I exhaled shortly, looking down at my paper for a moment before I shoved it to the chair beside mine and rose to my feet. I crossed the store and stepped up beside Rose, looking at the dresses in front of us for a moment. Rose was busily pretending to study the dresses; I knew she was waiting for me to speak. "Rose, do you think I shouldn't have dumped Rory?" I asked her carefully, keeping my voice emotionless and low. I needed an honest answer here. And Rose couldn't do that if she thought I was going to be mad.

"I think you don't give people enough chances." She said cryptically.

"Rory screwed up bigger than big. He accused me of cheating on him." I said, my voice still low, and the anger was seeping into my voice now; Rose glanced at me, looking caught between alarmed and irritated.

"I don't think that's why you dumped him." Rose said after a second, her voice quiet. I glared at Rose properly now, and she seemed to shrink an inch, something that just added to my annoyance; I hated arguing with Rose because she just wanted everyone to stop arguing. She had no care for making her point, or defending some greater good. She just wanted everyone to be friends. Annoying.

"And, praytell," I began icily, and Rose winced; when I was being really mean, I took my time in my sentences, because I knew that she was freaking out, and it gave her more time to panic internally. "What was the reason I dumped Mr. Corner, if not his false accusations?"

"Rose!" I heard Charlie Kehler's stupid voice say happily, and I looked past Rose to Charlie, flashing him a glare. I hated Charlie. Simpering idiot Hufflepuff—and he was with his friends. Great. Rose twisted to look at him too, and Charlie met her gaze with a smile. "You promised we'd meet at the Three Broomsticks at one—" He said, and Rose forced a laugh, sauntering up to him.

"Sorry, baby." She cooed, slipping up to him and putting a hand on his chest, pecking him on the lips. Charlie's hand slipped to her waste and to her butt—I glanced away. Horny teenage boys were the worst.

Charlie glanced up at me once she'd pulled away, obviously about to embark on the pleasantries-exchanging journey. "Hi Molly." He said, smiling tightly, and I raised an empty hand, not even putting in the effort to look happy to see him. I wasn't.

"Hey." I said shortly, looking back to Rose after a second. Rose met my gaze guiltily, still hanging off Charlie, and I rolled my eyes, looking away. That was nice—she felt guilty about ditching me and not answering my questions on purpose, hiding behind her ridiculous boyfriend. However, if she _actually _felt guilty, we wouldn't be having this problem, now would we?

"I'm going to hang with these guys…" She said awkwardly, gesturing to Bruce, Maia and Charlie. I nodded once. "I guess…" She paused, glancing back at them, before she looked back to me. "You could…come with…" I shot Maia a loathing look, and she frowned disapprovingly at me as I glanced back at Rose.

"Go ahead." I said quietly, my angry gaze boring into Rose's. Rose met my gaze for only half a second before she looked away, and I turned back on her, turning back to the dress rack as if I cared about its contents. I heard the door close, and then heard a shout of laughter outside, before I ducked my head, closing my eyes. I'd just gotten ditched for _Hufflepuff_ kids.

I was pathetic.

* * *

**A/N:** Note on the song choice: this song was originally recorded by Jill Scott, but I like the Glee Cast version better, so it's what I'm using, and if you feel like listening to the song I attach to the chapter, than listen to the Glee one.

Had a rough week, so I made Molly have a rough week. Sorry kids. That's the way I work. This was by far the roughest week of my life.

My cousin Billy was murdered in Washington DC this week. He was the sweetest guy and he had a pseudo-daughter and a girlfriend he'd been dating for years and a little brother and two older sisters. And some idiot killed him for helping out a girl getting hassled by a guy on his bike, who ended up having a gun. Billy's had a superman complex since a little kid—he used to wear a cape around. This time, he got shot for his efforts. I miss him a lot—and I hope you put him in your prayers.

Thanks to my lovely-wonderful-amazing-super-duper-awesometastic reviewers:  
**NotADreamYetNotANightMare  
KaitlynEmmaRose  
xxxsockixxx  
QuietAssumption  
Allen Pitt  
angel2  
FallenStar22  
Skittles31  
SinGiNg In ThE rAiN  
leshawnaseville15  
Molivline**


	14. Old Ways

Old Ways

_I'm not the same,  
But I can leave the game,  
Now I'm right back to my old ways…  
We only here for a little,  
So I'm somewhere in the middle,  
And I'm right back to my old ways,  
I'm not the same, style change,  
But I can leave the game.  
I'm right back to my old ways.  
—Chiddy Bang_

_When a compass is seen in a cloud of smoke, that generally means one of two things; either the seer will soon be embarking on a journey or they need to ask—_I scratched out the sentence, my quill grating against the parchment. I couldn't get that stupid first sentence right. I couldn't get anything right in this subject.

In the five days since Rose had ditched me in Hogsmeade, I'd not spoken to her at all. Which required some work; we were in two classes together, but she determinedly partnered up with other people. And then she fled the classroom before I even packed my bag. And in our room, she avoided me like the plague—she was either asleep or not present when I got there, and then she left before I woke up.

Which was why I'd sunk to hanging out with Mikey. I made it my policy not to get help from kids who'd _dumped_ me. But aside from Al and Fred (who were at Quidditch practice), no one was in my Divination class, and since I'd broken up with Rory, I had no sixth year help. So I had to ask Mikey. "I hate this subject." I muttered to the boy as I glanced at the coffee table, to where my textbook was open to the page that my essay was based on. I glanced up at him in time to see him smother a smile but say nothing as his gaze remained on the page.

We were sitting on the couch that was right beside the fire place. Once November hit, the fifth and seventh years pretty much had dibs on the comfortable seats in the Common Room, perhaps the only virtue involved in OWLs and NEWTs.

"Why?" Mikey asked me after a moment, and I glanced up at him sharply.

"Because it's complete nonsense." I said after a second, pushing a strand of hair out of my face with the end of my quill. Mikey shrugged uncomfortably.

"I'm not sure." He admitted his voice soft. I raised my eyebrows, glancing up at him. Mikey wasn't some sap who believed Trelawney, was he? "I don't think that Trelawney is necessarily all there," He said with a small smile, "but I dunno, there are some pretty legitimate Seers." Mike shrugged, and I raised my eyebrows before I looked back down to my parchment, trying to catch myself before I was mean to him.

"I don't know of any." I pointed out after a second; that was a polite refute, right? I wasn't so familiar with being polite. I generally considered it overrated. But Mike was so ridiculously nice that I felt a little guilty being mean to him.

"My sister is studying to be a seer." Mikey admitted, and I bit my lip, looking down at my paper for a moment as I tried to figure out how to save myself here.

"Sorry." I muttered finally, glancing up at him, my cheeks turning red. Even when I was trying to be nice, I was being mean. Nice job, Molly. "I'm sure she's perfectly legitimate—I'm just muggleborn, my dad's a computer guy." I offered a half a smile. "It's been ingrained in me since birth that there's a reason for everything. Seers, etc. have never really been something you can apply reason to." Mikey nodded understandingly, smiling a little awkwardly back at me, and I looked back down at my paper. I glared down at it for a moment before I heard Mikey sigh, and I glanced up at him.

"So your birthday's coming up." He said quietly, his voice kind. I smiled a little.

"I think you're the only one in this school except for my brother who knows my birthday…" I admitted softly. Mikey raised his eyebrows.

"Rose must know." He said quietly, and I shrugged.

"I've never told her or celebrated it with her." I told him, and he looked a little surprised, but Mikey was far too polite to say anything more. He was pretty much obsessively polite

"Albus knows." He offered softly. I felt my eyebrows draw together. Why would Al know my birthday?

"How?" I asked.

"I'm sure you've mentioned it before." He offered, shrugging. I shook my head—I pointedly didn't mention it. The last time I'd celebrated my birthday was the year I turned eleven. And on my eleventh birthday, Professor Longbottom had visited and told my parents that I wasn't just like every other girl on the block—I was a witch. And then Dad had packed up the kids and Mum and I'd not seen them for a week and a half.

"Did you tell him?" I asked after a second, my voice accusatory, and Mikey grinned a little weakly.

"He doesn't like to talk to me about you since last year." He said, wincing a little, and I frowned at him.

"Explain." I said lowly, and Mikey rolled his head on his shoulders uncomfortably.

"Albus doesn't like to talk to me about you," He elaborated slowly. "Because you and I used to date." He looked at me, before letting his head fall to the side a little. "And your dating anyone is a sore subject with him. He's pretty protective." Mikey said seriously.

"Last year we weren't even friends." I muttered, feeling a blush coat my cheeks; Mikey shrugged one shoulder. "Why would he give a damn about who I dated—and you aren't—I don't need protecting. Especially not from you." I pushed my hair out of my face impatiently.

"He's a Potter, Molly." Mikey pointed out with a half a grin, but I didn't catch the smile. "Protectiveness is in his genes." I looked at Mikey for a long moment before I looked at the fire, pressing my hand to my forehead, ducking my head and closing my eyes. I didn't need another Albus-related headache. "Hey, I'm sorry." He murmured to me, putting a hand on my upper back, and I lifted my head tiredly, looking at him with a half a smile.

"Not your fault." I said quietly, before I put the parchment on the table. "He's been giving me headaches recently."

"Who's been giving you headaches recently?" Albus's voice asked curiously behind me, and I leaned my head back to blink up at him; Albus, in his scarlet Quidditch robes, his hand around his broom, was standing behind the couch. His gaze landed sharply on Mikey, before he looked at me.

"You," I said honestly, but I smiled a little, and he relaxed a little more as Mike's hand withdrew from my back. Al jumped over the back of the couch, landing on my other side and making the couch bounce, and he threw an arm on the couch behind me, leaning back. I leaned forward but twisted to look at him. "How was practice?" I asked him quietly.

"Oh, well, 'twas delightful, until of course the kindly Mr. Weasley—I believe you've met once or twice—" He glanced at me, and I felt my mouth twitch into half a smile as I struggled to hide it; when had Al's stupid antics become _funny_ to me? "Anyway, the kindly Mr. Weasley didn't block a bludger and it hit my lovely brother's hand. James was rather distressed, and—" the portrait hole snapped open, and Fred ran in, his scarlet quidditch robes billowing out behind him. He threw his broom to the side, hitting a second year who glared at him, but he spared no time on her, running up and putting a hand on the back of the couch. He jumped over, and I ducked down, covering my head with my hands as Fred landed more clumsily on top of Al and me. I heard Albus curse loudly as I shoved Fred off of me, and he landed loudly on the ground at our feet; I sat up blearily, smoothing my hair down as I glared at Fred.

_"Asshole_," I hissed at him, and Albus kicked him.

"What the _fuck_—"

"James is angry." Fred whispered to him, and Albus's glare disappeared as he grinned, an evil look in his eyes.

"You broke his hand." Al whispered back. I reached forward, ignoring Fred's dismayed (and very manly) squeak as I closed my hand around a bunch of the robes on his chest and pulled him up an inch.

"Sit on me again, Weasley, and you will be sorry that you ever came within ten feet of me—understand?" I hissed at him, and he looked panicked.

"James is scarier than you." He whispered loudly, and I narrowed my eyes.

"Sure about that?" I growled slowly.

"Molly, you know I deeply respect the whole make-the-population-fear-you-thing you like to pull off, because you're good at it." Albus said gently to me, leaning forward and sliding his hand under mine on Fred's robes, gently forcing me to release him. I glared at Albus. "Unfortunately, James is actually threatening, where you're simply…kind of scary."

"I resent that." I said, frowning at Albus. "I'm extremely frightening. I pride myself on it."

"I know, Molly," Albus said comfortingly, in the same tone of voice that an adult might use for a child, a little condescending.

"Fix the voice, Albus." I hissed at him, and he grinned sheepishly.

"Sorry, love," He said with a grin, and I felt my eyebrows shoot up at the term of endearment, but there was no curl of unhappiness in my stomach. Albus had just called me _love_ and I wasn't tearing his head off.

What was I doing?

Before I could consider that question further, however, the portrait hole opened, and I heard a string of muttered curses as James walked in. I twisted to look at him with Albus; James's hand was bandaged tightly, and he chucked his broom towards the second years (who looked, now, far too terrified to stage the same silent glare they had when Fred had done the same thing). Then he turned to Al and me.

"_Where's Fred_?" James demanded, irate, of us, and I raised my eyebrows. I didn't have that much interaction with James. But I certainly didn't appreciate that he was glaring quite pointedly at Albus and me and we were not friendly enough that he got to yell at me when he wasn't even angry at me. So now I had to make a choice. Help Fred (always a bad idea) and make James mad (good idea) or don't help Fred (always a good idea) and help James. Ew. I _really_didn't want to help James. I couldn't get a reputation for someone who helped people she didn't know. So, first plan it was, then.

"Not here." I lied coolly, my gaze angry on James, as, at my feet, Fred scurried under the coffee table. "He went upstairs." I smirked, realizing I could find a new perk to this story.. "Albus said he could borrow your _cloak_. You know. The _special_ one." Rose had told me about the invisibility cloak and how it was a huge secret that her family had it because it was one of these really old objects—I hadn't been paying particularly close attention when she'd described it. But I knew enough that saying Albus had let Fred borrow it despite it being in James's possession would simultaneously get Al in trouble and make James angrier. Which sounded, frankly, like fun.

"_Albus_, you are going to get your sorry little ass kicked if Fred has taken the cloak—" James hissed as he passed us, and he took the stairs up two at a time to the boys dorms. Fred slid out from under the table and bounced up, before he shot toward me. He hugged me tightly around my shoulders, and I shifted uncomfortably; hugs. Gross.

"I love you so much. If I wasn't so dearly in love with the sport of Quidditch then I'd marry you, Molly Gale—" Fred said easily. I rolled my eyes, squirming in his grasp as I pulled faces, all part of my historic effort to get away from him. When he didn't release me, however, and I stopped squirming long enough to glare at him. "If you don't leave soon, James is going to come back." I reminded him lowly, and he hugged me tighter.

"You're amazing. I love you."

"Get the fuck off of me."

Fred released me and jumped onto the couch, before he leapt over it, and I shot him an angry glare after him as he grabbed his broom again and fled the Common Room. I blinked after him, before I chanced a glance at Albus.

"Jamesie's gonna _kill_ me…" He whined.

"Well then I shouldn't stick around…" I pointed out, flashing him, for the first time in our friendship, a proper grin. "I'm going up to my dorm to write Nate back, I think I finally figured out what I wanted to say..." I said, as I pushed myself up. I started towards the dormitory staircases, but Albus's hand shot out and closed around mine, the action more instinct than intention. I glanced back at him, raising an eyebrow, and he looked up at me. His green gaze was suddenly inscrutable, and I stared down at him for a moment. It was just a moment—his hand around mine, his gaze piercing mine and making me feel like he'd violated every barrier I had spent years building up. And that moment scared me to death.

I snatched my hand back, turning on my heel and walking away, monitoring my pace carefully. I didn't run away from anyone—especially not Albus Potter. I got to the stair case and forced myself to stay normal until I got to the empty sixth year girls' dorm; I slammed the door shut behind me, and then leaned back against it, tilting my head back and catching my breath.

I had to stop letting this happen.

* * *

_Nate,_

_I screwed up. I'm sorry._

_Love,  
Molly

* * *

_

The next day was Thursday, and the entire school was far too enticed by the idea of Quidditch that afternoon to pay attention to silly things like classes. This included our teachers, except, of course, for Professor Binns, who was dead. He had eternity to see Quidditch games. And he was my last period teacher, which meant that even though Charms, Transfiguration, Potions _and_ Herbology were all let out early, History of Magic was not. I was the only one among my friends who had History of Magic last period.

Merlin hates me.

"I've been waiting _for freaking ever_." Liam muttered to me as I came out of the classroom, my bag slung over my shoulder. Liam Fitzroy the Obnoxious was sitting down on the floor of the hallway, his back against the wall, his legs splayed out in front of him, glaring up at me. I stopped in front of him, glaring right back down at him.

"You think I liked having History of Magic?" I demanded.

"I had Herbology." Liam said, immediately switching tactics and grinning smugly. "Longbottom let us out way early."

"Longbottom let Fred and Al skip their last class because he wants them to be _rested up_ for the game." I muttered, pushing my hair out of my face. "He's a massive pushover."

"Correction: he's biased, and in our favor, which makes him my favorite teacher." Liam said, stretching out a long arm. "Gimme a hand up." He said, and I snorted in skeptical laughter.

"Too lazy or too weak to get up yourself?" I asked, my eyes narrowed.

"Molly, for the love of God, help me up." Liam said, glaring up at me, and I raised my eyebrows.

"You're supposed to be nice when you ask people for stuff." I pointed out.

"You're supposed to have emotions, so I guess we're both missing something here, huh?" Liam said angrily.

"Good _bye_." I said easily, turning away from Liam. I started down the hallway and I heard a string of curses as Liam's Irish brogue thickened (as it did every time he was angry). He caught up with me as I turned into the court yard, and he fell easily into step beside me.

"You have less patience than a basilisk, Molly Gale." He informed me tartly.

"Why are you walking with me?" I demanded baldly, glancing up at him suspiciously. Liam didn't get along with me. And now he was voluntarily walking with me. Something was up.

"Because you are walking Rose repellant, which currently makes you on the top of my list of favorite people…" Liam said easily, and I stiffened a little at Rose's name. She was still pretty much fleeing me. I'd heard through a betrayed-feeling Fred and Albus that she was sitting with the Hufflepuffs today during the game. Traitor. "What's the deal with that, anyway?" He demanded, looking down at me. I glared up at him.

"None of your business." I snapped. Liam glared at me.

"You're really not going to tell me about the only real fight you and Rose have ever had?" Liam demanded. "_Really?_ That seems a little extreme. Even for you, oh Princess of Privacy." I busied myself with readjusting my book bag on my shoulder, letting my hair fall in front of my face as I bided my time. I needed to answer this carefully.

"We're not…properly fighting." I said after a second. Liam glanced down at me, obviously waiting for something more.

"Alright, be cryptic." He muttered, obviously miffed at my lack of explanation. We managed to get out of the courtyard without any more conversation, and I was about to try to make myself look as unfriendly as possible in order to discourage any more tries. But then Liam spoke. And ruined the beautiful silence. "Isn't that awkward if you fight with Rose? Cause of her parents and the custody—"

"Liam!" I barked loudly at him. Liam knew, now, that I didn't want to talk about this; he just liked to bug me. That's what this was. Intentional bringing up of a subject that I was more than unwilling to talk about. "Stop it."

"No, I'm being serious!" Liam said, looking down at me, and I saw the glint of mocking in his eyes. Asshole. I shoved his shoulder and walked faster down the hill, leaving him to stumble blindly to the side a little. He didn't fall over, which would have been nice. Ah, well.

I couldn't get everything I wanted.

Twenty minutes later, the game was in full swing. The teams were pretty fairly matched; Hufflepuff has scored once, but that was it, and usually, by now, if one team was better, they'd asserted that. Fred and James were going to town on the bludgers—they were both in, which was something that Grace McClellan, the team captain, only did when she wanted to scare the other team. Together, they were practically a professional level beater team.

"_GO, GO GRYFFINDOR_," The cheer cropped up, and I leaned forward against the railing of the stands, inspecting the crowds; I liked Quidditch well enough, I supposed, but it wasn't captivating every second of every game. Liam was similarly uninterested; he'd spent the entire game, so far, glaring angrily at Rose across the field. My sort of best friend was sitting on Charlie Kehler's lap, looking, for all the world, like the classiest girl at this school. She'd not even looked over at us the entire time.

"I can't believe this." Liam fumed loudly beside me. His feet were kicked up on the railing, and I glanced down at him. "I cannot _fucking_ believe that girl—"

"Liam, you hated her before." I muttered, as the wind cropped up around us; it made the temperature drop from what had been a comfortable sixty to what felt like a shudderingly-cold 40. My hair blew around my head, and I pulled my sweater sleeves down around my thumbs.

"I didn't hate her before." Liam retorted, bringing his legs down from the railing. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked determinedly across at Rose.

"You had me fooled." I said, glancing down at him as I tried to push down my hair. I'd looked fairly nice today. But wind was enough to destroy my hair.

"I spend two hours a night _every night_ with her." Liam muttered, and I thought, for a moment, that I heard genuine hurt in his voice. "Or I used to."

"What?" I asked, glancing sharply down at him. The wind grew stronger, and I sighed, giving up on my hair. I pulled it back from my face, making sure the top was smooth at first before I wrapped a hair tie around it.

"She stopped coming to rounds the day you guys had the fight." Liam muttered, running a hand over his hair. "She came Sunday, but then missed Monday and Tuesday—she showed up last night, but she left early." Liam shook his head. "She really was growing on me, but now I'm covering for her every night…"

"You're _covering_for her?" I demanded, gaping, now. This was _Liam_I was talking about here. He'd never covered for anyone in his life. Liam looked up at me, seemingly caught between misery and defensiveness. "Who are you and what have you done with Liam Fitzroy?"

"Oh, come now—"

"_ALBUS POTTER HAS SEEN THE SNITCH_!" Lorcan Lovegood hollered into his magical microphone, and Liam and I turned back to the game as my hands flew back to the railing, my eyes finding Albus in a heartbeat. He was close to his broom, his eyes focused on the tiny, glittering snitch. It zipped tightly between Duane Jordan and Sera Finnigan, but Albus shoved between them, almost knocking Sera from her broom as he got closer and closer. The Hufflepuff chaser followed Albus, streaking after him, but Albus was faster than him. Al followed the snitch closer and closer to the ground, until he was zipping after it ten feet above the ground. I felt my stomach clench as I watched him get too close to hitting the stands, and swerve between the posts; he wouldn't get hurt, he couldn't. He was twenty feet from the snitch, fifteen, ten, eight, six, four. He was _so close_. Three feet. Two feet. The snitch swerved upwards a little and I saw, across the whole pitch, panic flick across his face. And then determination; he'd just figured out his plan.

Albus pounced forward from his broom, ten feet above the ground, and became airborne as he closed the final space between himself and the snitch, catching it tightly in his gloved hand, before he plummeted to the ground. I grabbed Liam's arm instinctively, my eyes on Al as he hit the ground, hard. The crowd fell silent as he was motionless, and James took off towards his little brother before Albus rolled onto his back and held up the snitch. He had a stupid grin the size of a hippogriff on his face.

And the Gryffindor crowd went wild.

"He's retarded." I said harshly, my voice hoarse from the lump that had been there for the ten seconds of immobility. Liam was shouting with the rest of the crowd as I released his arm, my own arms falling to my sides helplessly. I was trying pull the plug on the panic that had been raging in my lungs, making it hard to breathe, and as I did, I felt shaky. "I'm going to kill him." I muttered after a second, and Liam looked down at me and chuckled. I couldn't move my gaze from Albus, though: my eyes were focused on his idiotic-but-still-breathing form for a good thirty seconds, before I turned and started through the crowd. I stormed between the people, pushing past the younger kids who didn't have the sense to get out of my way. I reached the door of the staircases downstairs, and slammed through it, running down the stairs. I shoved through the downstairs door, and sprinted to the team entrance. I rounded the corner into the team entrance (the locker rooms were off there) as Albus got up from where he'd fallen, with help from his brother James and Fred. He put an arm around each of their shoulders, limping off the field slowly, and until he got the entrance, he had a pained look on his face that made my stomach hurt; then he saw me. And he grinned like the dopy idiot he was.

"I'm going to kill you." I informed him, my voice harsh as he came closer to me, and Fred chuckled.

"Once he's done trying to kill himself, of course." James muttered, shaking his head. I kept my gaze on Albus's face, inspecting it for injury—he looked fine, but he wasn't putting much weight on his left ankle, and he was twisted a little oddly—I thought his ribs might be broken.

Fred and James walked Albus into the boys' locker room, and I didn't even hesitate, following them in. James shot me an uncomfortable look, but I ignored him. Fred and James walked Al through the locker room and into the weight room, then through another door into the small room off the weight room where players could get wrapped before games—or go to get checked out if they were injured. I let Fred and James help Albus sit on the stretching table before I stood at the foot of it, my arms crossing over my chest angrily.

"You're an idiot." I told him lowly.

"You're _worried_." Albus said, grinning, but his hand was pressed to his ribs, and his eyebrows were a little too drawn together for him to be entirely comfortable.

"I am not." I growled reflexively, shaking my head; he looked unconvinced, and I scrambled to continue. "I'm stunned at your stupidity. It's literally _stunning_."

"You're _worried_." Albus repeated, and I gaped down at him, before I glanced at Fred. Fred was now leaning against the wall, chuckling a little at this performance Al was putting on. I was glad _someone _found it funny.

"Can you _believe_ him?" I demanded, turning to the boy as I threw my hands in the air; Fred grinned. "Can you _freaking believe_—"

"I can believe." Fred said. "Because the only other seekers stupid enough to jump off their brooms to catch snitches were his dad, and his grandpa." Fred shook his head. "At least he comes by his stupid honestly."

"I try to come by my stupid honestly." Albus chimed in, his breath a little wheezy.

"You jumped off your broom midair!" I yelled explosively, glaring at Albus now, finally snapping. Albus nodded, confirming this with an unholy grin. "Are you _actually_an idiot? You could have _died_!"

"You're worried." He said smugly again, looking up at me, and I blinked at him.

"I _hate_ you." I muttered, crossing to one of the chairs on the side of the small room. I sank into it, running a hand over my hair and down my ponytail, before I leaned back.

"She _is_ worried." Fred stage-whispered to Albus, and I cursed under my breath, pressing my hand to my eyes. I was going to kill someone.

"Miss Gale, I generally don't allow girls in boys' locker rooms." Madame Pomfrey said as I heard the door open; I snapped my eyes open, dropping my hand, to see her bustle in. "See, boys' locker rooms are for boys, and girls' locker rooms are for girls." She explained as she crossed to Albus.

"She was worried about me." Albus told Madame Pomfrey, looking gleeful. "So she came into the boys' locker room to check on me. Because she was worried."

"I'm going to smack you." I said seriously, my lethal gaze settling on the boy lying down on the table; Fred chuckled.

"Molly, as much as I appreciate the sexual tension you add to any situation with my brother in it, you've got to leave." James Potter said to me, his voice flat, and I turned my glare to him. "He needs to heal and while you're here, he's just going to put on a show." James looked at Fred. "You too, Frederick."

"I'm not leaving." I muttered.

"Yes you are, Miss Gale." Madame Pomfrey said, and I exhaled shortly, shoving myself to my feet. I glanced at Albus on my way to the door; his hand was pressed to his ribs, obviously in pain. I winced, but stepped outside, closely followed by Fred. We slipped outside as the rest of the team pushed their way in, and I took a deep breath as we stepped outdoors. Then I turned on Fred.

"I'm not being unreasonable." I said shortly, my voice clipped. "He was an idiot—"

"Molly, you need to calm down," Fred said to me, and I tried my hardest to ignore the fact that he was trying to calm me down, which meant I _needed_calming down, badly. Because if I needed calming down, than mean I had been worried. About Albus. "Albus is fine." Fred told me softly, and looked away. "If he's well enough to make fun of you than he's fine." Fred pointed out. "Besides—broken bones hurt like the _dickens,_ but they're fixable. He'll be perfect by dinner."

"He _jumped off his broom in the air_—" I hissed, snapping my head to look at Fred angrily.

"And he was extremely close to the ground when he did it." Fred pointed out. I exhaled slowly, looking away as I sank back against the wall. I ducked my head, realizing that my heart was pounding at a mile a minute, and I took slow, deep breaths, until the pounding of my heart no longer threatened to drown out every other noise around me.

"He's going to be fine." I echoed quietly.

"I mean, until you get to him." Fred said, and I glanced at him with a small half-smile; he grinned. "But yeah." I nodded once, before the wind kicked up again, and I rubbed my forehead. God, did I feel stupid. I'd panicked.

I didn't panic.

"Molly?" I heard a familiar voice ask softly, and Fred and I looked up at Cormac, who was standing awkwardly in the entry way. My baby brother had jeans and an oversized Manchester United sweatshirt on that I recognized from Nate's closet, and his hair was all over the place. "Uh, I think I got in trouble again."

My eyes narrowed.

"You think?" I asked after a second, straining to keep my voice normal. I didn't snap at my brothers and sister—not because I never felt the inclination to, but because they were my family, and my family came first. But sometimes Cormac in particular made it hard.

"I know." He amended. "Longbottom wants me in his office." I sighed slowly, thinking; I hadn't heard, recently, of any first year pranks, and I tried to keep track of them; chances were, Cory would be hauled in for questioning the second a firework went off.

"How much trouble do you think we're talking about here?" I asked, frowning. Cormac blushed, and I raised my eyebrows. "Oy, Cory, what'd you do?" I demanded.

"Stuff." He muttered, shrugging, and I stared at him.

"Cory." I said warningly.

"She'll probably go easier on you if you just spill, kiddo." Fred informed Cormac wisely, and Cormac's face turned redder, still; he didn't want whatever he was in trouble for broadcast, even if he wouldn't tell me what the hell it was. I eyed Cormac, before I pressed my lips together, turning to Fred.

"I have to go handle this." I murmured, pressing a hand to my cheek. "Tell Albus that I'm going to shake him whenever I get my hands on him, okay?" I said, before I shook my head. I pulled away, walking towards my brother and Cory looked down as I passed him, before he turned and fell into step with me. He bounced a little with each step he took—a sure sign that he was nervous.

I let him walk with me up to the castle in silence, watching him get more and more worried, before I ran a hand over his hair, smoothing it down. "Kid, what's going on?" I asked, my voice gentle. Cory didn't respond well to yelling. Despite my near-constant desire to yell at him.

"I've not been doing my Transfiguration homework." He admitted lowly. I glanced down at him skeptically.

"Longbottom wouldn't care so much about that." I said after a moment. "I mean, stupid not to do that, because you're a first year, and it's pretty easy, but it wouldn't matter that much." He nodded once as we stepped inside the castle. "I need to know, kiddo, before we walk in there." I told him after a moment. "I can only strategize when I have forewarning."

"Nate said your specialty was winging it and his was strategizing." Cormac muttered, and I glanced down at him sharply, frowning.

"When did he say that?" I asked quietly, but my voice was still a little sharp.

"He just said it over the summer," Cory muttered, shrugging. I rolled my eyes, but I bit the inside of my mouth as we turned onto the hallway of Professor Longbottom's office. I inhaled slowly as we approached the door. I stopped right before the door, and Cory went to open it; I put a hand on his arm, stopping him.

"Cormac, I need to know what's going on here before you open that door." I told him, my voice firm as I looked down at him, and he just looked up at me, his eyes wide. I held his gaze, and he broke.

"I'm failing Transfiguration." He admitted lowly. I blinked, before I closed my eyes, leaning against the door in a moment of weakness. Fuck. This was bad.

I wanted Cory out of the Weasleys' custody, and for that to happen, I had to prove my parents weren't bad parents and I was on top of things. People who were on top of things didn't let their little brother _fail _a class.

"Cormac." I moaned, opened my eyes after a second to look down at him.

"I'm sorry." He muttered. I stared down at my little brother. This was bad. This was so bad. And he didn't even get that. Because I hadn't told him who our legal guardians were, so he didn't know that I had a plan. He didn't even know I _needed _a plan.

"Goddammit." I muttered, and Cory gaped up at me. I never cursed around him—not seriously anyway. I was turning into a disaster of a big sister, here. "I will deal with this later, but when we go in there, apologize and swear you'll do better. Speak only when I tell you to," Cormac glared at me.

"What—"

"You lost the right to argue with me when you failed a class I _know _you are smart enough to pass." I muttered, pushing my hair out of my face as I ignored the hurt look on Cormac's face. First Albus jumped off his broom like a retard and gave me a heart attack and then here my little brother was, failing a class. I was a bad influence.

I took a deep breath, forced a polite smile on my face, and opened the door.

"Molly." Professor Longbottom's voice was surprised—he hadn't expected I'd show up with Cormac. How long was it going to take the people at this school to figure out that when Cory was in trouble, I was there in a heart beat? Get with the game.

"Professor Longbottom." I said quietly. His office was smaller than the Headmistress's, and I'd only been in it a handful of times. There was a fireplace behind his desk, and beside the fireplace, Mrs. and Mr. Weasley stood, their gazes serious on me. Mr. Weasley was leaning against the wall, his hands in his pockets, and Mrs. Weasley had her arms tensely crossed across her chest. "Mr. and Mrs. Weasley." I continued after a moment with a nod, and I opened the door enough to let Cormac enter ahead of me.

"Hi guys." Mrs. Weasley said with a muted smile. Cory walked uncertainly ahead of me, and I closed the door behind us, turning to it and giving myself a half a moment to regroup. The Weasleys were here. Great.

Could this get worse?

But because I was a Gale kid and Gale kids don't get scared off, I took a deep breath, and turned around.

I walked up behind Cormac, looking up at the Weasleys. The less reaction I showed, the more freaked out they'd get. Then again, if I spoke first, I'd look like I was handling this. "I assume this is about the Transfiguration grade." I said quietly, and my brother stepped back towards me as he stared at the Weasleys; Mrs. Weasley looked angry, and I knew enough about her to know that Mrs. Weasley angry was no joke.

"Yes." Mrs. Weasley affirmed. She paused, waiting for some sort of fanfare of apology, but I just held her gaze. "Cormac," She murmured, looking down at my brother. "This is bad."

"I'm sorry." He muttered, and I sighed.

"This is really bad." She reiterated. "You need a tutor, Cormac."

"He doesn't need a tutor." I said calmly, and Mrs. Weasley's piercing gaze flicked to me.

"Yes, he does." She corrected me, her voice steely. "He obviously doesn't understand something in the subject if he's failing."

"I understand the subject!" Cormac objected, glaring.

"Cormac, _shut up_." I hissed, looking down at him, and he fell silent. The scowl was still on his face, but his cheeks were scarlet; this was humiliating. I felt bad for him, on some level. But dear God. He'd screwed this up.

"Let me correct myself." Mrs. Weasley said, stepping forward. "I _hope _you don't understand, Cormac. Because this would be one stupid mistake to make if you were just too lazy to—"

"_Don't _call him lazy." I hissed at her, cutting her off, and Mrs. Weasley's eyebrows shot up in surprise. She was part of the Golden Trio—if I had to guess, she hadn't been properly snapped at since she helped save the world.

I was going to break that streak.

"Molly, it's one or the other. He either doesn't get this, or he didn't do the work. Only two options." Mrs. Weasley said after a moment, but she sounded less confrontational. Even to her, I was a scary opponent.

"Maybe he didn't do the work." I acknowledged, my voice lethal. "But that doesn't give anyone the right to call him lazy." I glared at her. "He's a first year and muggleborn. He's having a rough time adjusting. You can't blame him for that."

"I'm muggleborn." She ground out. "I never failed a class. I didn't need to _adjust_—"

"I'm sorry, did your dad kick you out of the house two weeks before you started a new school?" I demanded angrily. She didn't speak, and my lips pulled into a mean smirk. "Yeah, that's what I thought." I said harshly, and Cormac backed into me, now; I put my arm around his shoulders, pulling him against me. "I will handle this. He will have at least an Acceptable in that class before the semester ends, because unlike you, I know him and know how to fix this." I removed my arm from Cormac's shoulders, giving him a light shove in the direction of the door. "Go wait for me outside, I'll be out in a second." Cormac nodded, ducking his head as he walked towards the door. He opened the door and glanced, fleetingly, back at me, checking that I was okay, and I flashed him a half a smile, trying not to show how angry I was, because my anger wasn't with him. He went outside, and closed the door. And I turned back to Mrs. Weasley.

"I do not know how Rose and Hugo turned out like they did," I began, my voice low and angry as hell. "But I know that _that performance right there _was not something that a good parent does." I shook my head. "You just _humiliated _my little brother. That's unacceptable in my book, from anyone. Especially from a near-perfect stranger who does not know _us_ or our family. So fuck you." I turned on my heel, walking to the door. I made it to the door, my hand on the knob, before Mrs. Weasley spoke again.

"When you come home for Winter Break, you're both grounded." She said shakily. I smirked, turning to her.

"What makes you think I'd go anywhere near you or your home over my break?" I asked her lowly. "Or, for that matter, let my brother anywhere near you or your home?" Mrs. Weasley was staring at me. "You are our legal guardians, sure. But do I look like I give a damn about what some court said?" I barked out a humorless laugh. "I'm going home for break." I opened the door, and stepped outside, before I slammed the door shut behind me.

Had I just said I was going home for break? I wasn't going to be allowed home for break.

I leaned back against the door; I trusted that I'd stunned the Weasleys into at least a short conversation with Longbottom. I closed my eyes; they were burning, for some reason. Fuck. I probably wouldn't have reacted to harshly to the Weasleys had Albus not given me a heart attack, earlier. I was still jittery from that, and I hated being jittery. People weren't usually able to give me jitters.

But Mrs. Weasley had definitely crossed a line.

"Molly?" Cormac asked, and I opened my eyes, looking down at my worried-looking little brother. I sighed. Now I got to deal with him.

I straightened up and put on my serious face. I had to come clean, here. "Let's talk." I told him quietly, putting a hand on his back and leading him down the hallway, towards one of the large windows that opened onto the courtyard. I settled myself down on the window ledge, and Cormac did the same, climbing on and crossing his legs. I forced myself to look serious—I had to be a grown up here, because Cormac had screwed up, and I was his grown up.

"Kid, I don't want to have this talk with you, but…" I began, shaking my head. "You can't do stuff like this." I shook my head. "Don't do your homework sometimes, fine. I'm not insisting you ace every class." Cory blushed. "But you can't fail classes." I swallowed, tilting my head to either side as I worked up the courage to continue. "You especially can't fail classes," I continued slowly, "because, when Dad kicked me out—Albus's dad gave custody to Rose's parents." I pressed my lips together, and the blood drained from Cormac's face. "Of you too, and I need to get custody of you back to Mum and Dad, which means you can't be bad at school. Because then I'm not on top of things...and it looks like our family is screwier than it already is."

"This happened in August?" He demanded, before I could continue. I nodded, wincing. That sounded longer. "You didn't tell me." He said accusatorily. I shook my head, refusing to hesitate or justify it. I was a big girl—I could take whatever Cormac could dish out. He was mad, and rightly so. This was about him, not me. "Why not?"

"Because at the time, everything was changing too fast." I told him softly. "And then it never seemed the right time."

"You should have told me." Cormac said, glaring at me, now. I closed my eyes. Please don't be too mad. "I'm not just a little kid!" He pushed himself up. "You can't just not tell me stuff. I'm eleven, and not Cal or Ellie—I'm trying to keep a handle on what's happening and I can't not know stuff—"

"I know, Cory. I'm sorry." I murmured. Cormac glared at me, and I thought I saw his eyes get too shiny for a moment before he turned. He took off down the hallway, and I let him go. He needed to cool off.

I let my chin drop to my chest, covering my face with my hands, as I took a deep breath. I'd screwed up and now I was paying for it. I deserved having Cormac run away, practically in tears. I'd dug myself this hole, where in I had no place to stay for Winter Break because I'd shoved away the only people willing to house me.

I'd thought I was better at this.

* * *

**A/N**: Forgive me, this is late. But I wrote the whole thing by Friday night then rewrote the whole thing because Molly's voice is hard to get but it's worth the wait.

Thanks for all the condolences, guys, it really does mean a lot.

My lovely reviewers who made the worst week of my life 10000x better (so super special thanks):

**SinGiNg In ThE rAiN  
leshawnaseville15  
NotADreamNotYetANightmare  
Skittles31  
Angel2u  
xxsockixxx  
FallenStar22  
Molivline  
Allen Pitt  
KaitlynEmmaRose**


	15. Created a Monster

**Created a Monster**  
_Can someone tell me where to go?  
Somewhere far away where it can't go wrong,  
There's too many snakes on this globe,  
Now everybody sing it, sing it...  
__We created a monster, created a monster,  
But no one wants to kill it.  
—B.o.B.  
_

Cormac hadn't talked to me in three days.

Cormac. Silence. Three days.

Days.

I desperately missed him, too. I barely talked to him in the course of my day—messing up his hair when I passed him was usually the limit of my interaction with him, except for when he got in trouble or I passed on a letter that Nate had included in my envelope. And all of this was made worse by the fact that he was the _little _one. I was supposed to be taking care of him, and I'd screwed up, and now he wasn't talking to me. I should have been the one who was mad at him, he should have been the one who screwed up.

I was a bad big sister.

Further proof of that was the fact that it was my birthday, and two of my little brothers weren't talking to me (Nate hadn't written me back, as of yet). In fact, I might have just been a bad socializer in general: I still hadn't made up with Rose. That was mostly because I didn't want to (she'd screwed up, she should apologize), but still. It said something that I was this isolated.

_Not so isolated_, I tried to comfort myself. _Al and Fred went to Hogsmeade with you yesterday. It was nice. You didn't even remember that you usually went to Hogsmeade with Rose_.

I was as bad at comforting myself as I was comforting other people.

I blinked up at the ceiling of my room. I didn't even want to get out of bed. I'd set up the worst birthday situation, ever. All by myself, too—I couldn't even shove some blame off on people. This was just me. Just my fault.

I felt a touch of self-pity taint my thoughts, so I forced myself to take a deep breath and sit up, running a hand through my hair as I propped myself up with my other arm, and inspected my dorm room. Rose was asleep (or pretending to be) in her bed, but otherwise, everything else was fine, so I forced myself to flip back the blankets and swing my legs over the edge of my bed. I slid off my bed and walked to the end of it, opening my trunk and staring down at my clothes. Today was Sunday, and unsought blessing: I got to wear whatever I wanted. I reached first for a pair of jeans, before I reconsidered, and swerved my hand last minute to a dress that I'd bought with one of my muggle friends over the summer. It was a blue-green blue dress with a thin white belt and no sleeves, though the straps on the dress were about as thick as two fingers. I didn't know that much about clothing, but I liked this dress, and it looked nice on me. Which would be nice, until Rory and/or Albus hit on me, at least.

I slipped silently out of my pajamas, folding them and putting them on my bed neatly—I kept my things psychotically neat, a sort of backwards attempt to control my life. The house elves would wash whatever I left on my bed. I pulled the dress over my head, sighing as I slipped the belt through the small buckle, making sure it fit before I fastened it. I grabbed a white sweater from my trunk and slipped it on, leaving it unbuttoned as I closed my trunk and, after a moment, tapped the top with my wand. Before, I'd never locked my trunk—Rose and I had essentially shared what clothes we could, whenever. Now, however…we weren't even talking.

I put on my sneakers, lacing them up and tying them, my fingers flying, before I ducked out the door, closing it quietly behind me. I went down the stairs, emerging into the Common Room with my head down. I was, perhaps, a little afraid of Albus and Fred's reaction—and maybe, if I kept my head down, they would ignore my birthday, since apparently Albus knew my birthday. Of course, maybe the boys weren't up. Or maybe Albus had forgotten my birthday. Maybe, in the best of all worlds, he'd never known it—_maybe_ Mikey had been wrong. And if all else failed, maybe I could just—make it—to—the—Great—Hall—and—he'd—not—see—me.

But even as I punctuated each word of that thought with a hesitant step, nothing happened once I got to the Common Room. I kept my face expressionless, and when I felt a twinge of disappointment, I shoved it away, my face flaming with embarrassment at the emotion that no one else could see. I had no right to be disappointed. I didn't want my birthday. End of story.

I walked through the hallways and down the stairs, finally rounding onto the hallway with the Great Hall on it. I kept my head down as I inspected my dress: there was a thread loose on the bottom. I was so hard on my clothes…and I had to assume the daily rifling through my trunk in an effort to find clothes didn't help. Also, Longbottom had told me, when I was packing up that first year, that muggle clothes fray more quickly at Hogwarts than magical ones. I didn't understand it, but I didn't care.

I stopped for a second, two feet back from the beginning of the huge open double doors that led to the great hall; I had to take a breather. I would be fine. This was just a stupid birthday. And if nobody knew it, everything would go fine. I walked inside the Great Hall, my default stay-away glare in place.

And something went _boom. _

Weasley's Wildfire Whizbangs shot into the air, spirals of sparks peeling off from the main group, drawing firey lines under the newly-created spark-dragon turned in the air, shooting sparks towards the ceiling, then turned to face the Slytherin table. The fire-beast swooped down, causing every member of the table to scream, covering their heads, thought I remembered Fred telling me that the sparks were harmless and not even warm enough to burn. The dragon soared upwards, and blew out a breath of sparks before the shape fell away; the sparks that it'd exhaled formed a words that were being written across the ceiling of the Great Hall. I pressed a hand to my pounding heart, squinting up at the words.

_HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOLLILICIOUS_!

Oh. My. God.

I stared up at the words, shimmering on the ceiling. The sparks that had been part of the dragon fell from the sky towards me—I flinched for a second, but they stopped before touching my skin, instead clumping together around me to write _BIRTHDAY BITCH _in an arc over my head. I heard cackling laughter from the vague direction of the Gryffindor table, but even when I could tear my gaze away from the ceiling, I looked at the Slytherins: Celia & company were trading war stories about how they nearly _died. _I glanced slowly across the room, absorbing the Hufflepuffs' laughter and the Ravenclaws' sniffs—too mature for us Gryffindors and our birthday celebrations. The teachers were just starting to process enough of what had happened to look like they wanted to give someone detention. Finally, I looked at the Gryffindor table. Most of the little kids were looking impressed—Cormac was falling over laughing with his friends, but this was too much for him to have done, so I continued to look along the table.

Albus and Fred were grinned unrepentantly at me from about three quarters of the way down the hall, not far from the teacher's table.

I felt a half a strangled smile work its way onto my face, even as I smothered the desire to laugh—Albus and Fred _weren't funny._ They were idiotic and they'd just called me _Mollilicious_. I was absolutely not encouraging—

And then I started laughing.

I couldn't help it. I folded in half, my arms around my stomach as I laughed harder than I had weeks; my breath left me and my lungs seemed to run out of air as I laughed, my eyes watering. Tiny fireworks went off beside my head, and I swiped at them half-heartedly as I laughed, before I started towards Fred and Albus. Both of them stood up, and for a moment I thought they were going to run away, but they hopped up onto the benches they'd been sitting on only moments before. Fred frowned at Albus, after a moment, then stepped onto the table, trodding on the plate of toast between them as he struggled to get his balance. Albus stepped up onto the tabletop as well, and after he'd gotten settled, they turned to the different sides of the Great Hall and… _bowed_. The students cheered.

Holy crap. This was freaking epic.

I'd almost made it to where they were in the hall, but I couldn't help falling into a near-collapse of laughter again as they bowed deeply. I stumbled forward, sinking onto the bench where Albus was standing on the table, and Al straightened up. He waited for me to calm down before, looking down at me, he extended a hand down to me. I swallowed another laugh and put my hand in his, still smiling absurdly as I stood up gracefully. He pulled me up gently, and I stepped up onto the bench hesitantly, and then up onto the table. He put a steadying arm around my waist, pulling me close against him, and I rested one hand on his chest, my other arm looped around his waist.

On a table, in the middle of the Great Hall.

Our closeness made my throat close up, and I stared up at me, the smile still on my lips, probably one of the few proper smiles I'd offered Albus in our lifetimes. His eyes were filled with laughter, even as he kept his arms tightly around me. "Like your present?" He asked me, smirking.

"I'm impressed at your daring, I can't lie." I murmured to him, and he grinned, nodding once.

"I try." He said with a grin, glancing up appreciatively at his work, before he looked back down at me. "This is nothing." He added after a second, smugly, and I laughed softly, ducking my head a little, and I heard the smile in Al's voice as he continued. "But you're sure you like it?"

"I do." I said softly, lifting my head to look up at him again. I paused, searching for the words to say what I wanted to; when I couldn't find them, I switched tracks. "You're going to get in so much trouble…" I pointed out, but I was smiling too, and he laughed for a moment.

"I…" He paused, "do not care." He continued after a second, his tone strikingly honest, and I felt my smile inch larger. That was usually a sign of weakness, for me; smiling. But I couldn't stop it. One of the fireworks went off around my head, and Albus squinched his eyes shut as a few of the sparks flew towards his face.

"Those are a bit annoying." He admitted, opening his eyes again. I grinned a little.

"Your own fault, Albus Potter." I pointed out softly, and suddenly we were too close—my chest pressed against his, my face inches from his, so I turned in his loose grip around my waist, until my back was to him; somehow, that gave him more leeway to pull me back against him. I twisted a little to meet his gaze seriously, the smile a little on my face, still.

"Careful." I murmured to him.

"Always," He murmured, a weaker smile coming up. That smile reminded me of the one my dad had used to give my mother when she caught him sneaking a cigarette, before he quit smoking. Like I was Al's vice, or something. I studied him for a second before relaxing back against his chest, leaning my head back against his shoulder. Al's head dropped a little beside my own, and I resisted the urge to move away.

"Happy Birthday Mollilicious." He murmured, his mouth beside my ear, and I closed my eyes for a moment, his breath brushing my neck.

"Thank you, Albus." I murmured as I opened my eyes again, before I turned my head a little, moving one hand to reach out, touching Fred's forearm. "Thank you." I told him seriously, and Fred just shrugged.

"For Miss Gale, anything." Fred said with a grin, and I chuckled a little, looking back up at the message that was sure to stay on the ceiling for the rest of the day.

Best birthday ever.

* * *

_Molly—_

_For the love of God, learn to apologize. You're the worst at it. You are balls at apologizing. Seriously._

_Happy birthday. Your present was an idea of Cormac's—the kid's brilliant, though he tells me he's having trouble in school? I demand details._

_Love,  
Nate_

_P.S. Cormac is come home for break, right? And what are you doing?_

* * *

_Dear Molly,_

_HAPPY BIRTHDAY!_

_Lots of love,_

_Cal and Ellie_

* * *

"This is the biggest mess of sparkles, glue and pompoms I've ever seen." Fred said with a cheerful grin as he looked down at the card from the twins. I rolled my eyes, then leaned back, propping myself up with my arms as I let the sun warm my face. We were sitting outside, beside the lake, with pretty much every other Hogwarts student: it was uncommonly nice out, today. Still, though, a warming charm was necessary to be perfectly comfortable.

"They're twins, and they're eight." I told Fred, letting my eyes shut. "The fact that the card even says happy birthday on it should be considered a victory." I told him, my voice low, and Albus laughed.

"What'd Nate get you?" Albus asked, and I squinted open my eyes, tilting my head to the side to look at him. Al was on my right side, Nate's letter to me in his hand, and I rolled my eyes; he'd read my letter. Or part way—his thumb was beside the part where Nate had mentioned my present. But that wasn't what annoyed me.

No, what annoyed me was this _thing. _Albus did this thing where he asked me questions about my life that he really just shouldn't have cared about. Random crap. Like what my brother had gotten me for my birthday—it had no effect on his life, had a minimal effect on mine—I didn't get it. But he continued to ask these stupid questions.

"Doesn't matter." I muttered, squinting a little at him.

"Ah, tell me anyway." Albus said easily. I felt my eyebrows draw together. I didn't understand this boy.

"It's a family thing." I said after a moment, my voice a tad more serious. "You wouldn't get it."

"I wouldn't get a family thing?" Albus asked. "I know more about your family than Rose does and she's been your best friend for years."

"A polo shirt with a general's insignia," I said shortly.

"A…what?" Albus demanded, and I barked out a laugh, pushing my hair back from my face and turning to look at Albus, the sun beating down on my face.

"There's a bit of a running metaphor in my family," I said after a moment, "where I am General and the kids are my soldiers. Nate's like—I dunno, the Colonel. And then Cormac and Ellie and Cal are just… little." I shrugged. "I'm general and now I have a shirt to prove it." I shrugged.

"Oh." Albus murmured, nodding. "That it from your family?"

"Cory and Nate went halfsies on these mirror things from Fred's dad's store." I said, shrugging a little.

"Mirror things?" Albus asked, his voice a little lower, and I frowned.

"They can be used for conversation between two people far away from each other." I said lowly, sitting up straight now, and brushing my hands off. I ducked my head and studied Albus a little, even as I made sure the dirt I'd brushed from my hands didn't land on the skirt of my dress.

"The mirror things were based off the originals my granddad made." Al said after a second, his voice serious. I nodded a little, unsure of how to proceed; Albus's grandfather, the first James Potter, had been killed by Voldemort. Albus hadn't brought him up before, I thought, but as far as I knew, the first James Potter was a sore subject; his and his wife's death had led to Mr. Potter being raised by his crazy aunt and uncle. I only knew vague outlines, but it had been bad. "They're expensive." He pointed out after another moment. "How'd your brother afford them?" He asked.

"Nate sent him the money, Cormac had Lily change it for him at the Gringotts branch in Hogsmeade." I told him quietly, and Albus nodded once. He stared at me for a moment, and I let his gaze flood my face, even as I determinedly fiddled with my dress and made sure my hands were free of dirt for the third time. He looked back down at my letter after a second, and I glanced at Fred, who avoided my gaze determinedly. He wasn't getting caught up in this.

The silence continued though, and if there was anything that could lure Fred out of silence, it was extended silence: he turned to me, a slightly mocking grin already in place. "So, Miss Molly, on the sixteenth anniversary of your expulsion from your mother's womb—"

"Gross." I muttered, pulling a face.

"—what is it that you would like to do?" Fred continued, unbothered by my interruption.

"As long as no one mentions my mother's womb again, I don't care." I murmured.

"Perhaps we could sing a song."

"No." I said, frowning.

"But people sing happy birthday to other people all the time—"

"And what exactly is the person who is being sung happy birthday _to _supposed to do, hmm?" I demanded, and Fred shrugged.

"Bask in their birthday glory?" He suggested.

"Hey," Al said tightly, and my head snapped sharply to him; that was a bad tone. "Why doesn't your brother know where you're spending break?" He asked, and I made sure my face was clear before I answered.

"Because he's as confused about the custody situation as I am." I said levelly, my eyes narrowing a little at Albus.

"But you told him Hermione and Ron are your guardians." Al stated, and I glared at him.

"Yes." I said crisply.

"Albus, don't pick on the birthday girl." Fred muttered, but neither Albus nor I spared him another glance; I heard him sigh behind me, muttering something about stubbornness.

"Why wouldn't he assume you're spending break with them?" Albus demanded.

I shrugged.

Albus stared at me, pressing his lips together tightly, and I just glared back. Then his shoulders slumped; he knew he couldn't beat me at my own game.

"You'll tell him that you're spending break with Hermione and Ron?" Albus switched tracks, his voice still low. His green gaze searched my face as I didn't move a muscle. I wasn't spending break with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. And I wasn't going to lie to Albus about that.

My silence was enough to send the boy into a tailspin though: his eyes darkened with worry, and I felt something akin to a twinge of guilt, had I been the sort of person who felt guilt. But I wasn't. Guilt was for weak people. Only people who made mistakes felt guilty. And I hadn't made a mistake. "Molly." Albus said my name in that way he always did, like he was just keeping hold of his sanity, by the time I drove him to say my name. "You were spending break with Hermione and Ron up until, what, last week?" He stared at me. "What change your—if this is about that stupid fight with Rose, I swear, I will shake you—"

"I'm not a child." I hissed at him, leaning forward a little as my blood turned to ice; why would I have switched custody because of a stupid fight with Rose? We were barely even fighting, she'd just been weird and I was still waiting on my apology. "I didn't decide to not respect the custody deal because I had a fight with my best friend—"

"Then what the fuck happened?" He growled, and his gaze bored into mine; I felt a flood of anguish sweep me as his eyes flashed. Albus practically projected his emotions on to me, which was bad, because I was bad at handling my own emotions. I didn't need his, too.

"Cormac failed Transfiguration." I bit out shortly. Al nodded—he'd known that. "And your aunt acted like a right bitch about it." Al blinked at me, his eyes widening; I'd tried to be nice about his family around him, and since he was weird and perceptive like that, he'd probably figured that out. But Hermione Granger had officially moved onto my hit list. "She _humiliated_ Cormac. She said that she _hoped_ he was stupid, because or else he was just _lazy_—and in case you didn't notice," the angry, sarcastic smile that I knew made people nervous moved into place, and Al's eyes darkened further, the concern on his face becoming more pronounced, "_no_ _one_ gets to insult my family."

Albus stared at me, and I took a deep breath, refusing to let my eyes waver from his. "She called Cormac stupid?" He asked after a second.

"Yes." I said sharply. "I don't let my father do it, I don't let Mr. Goyle do it, and I _certainly _don't let our legal guardian do it."

Albus was still staring at me like the idiot he was, and I felt my face flush. "You let your dad _hurt_—" his strangled voice cut off, "But my aunt calls your brother stupid and—you reject her house?"

"He's not stupid." I told him simply. "I do not compromise on that point. Even for houses."

"He's not." Albus agreed. "But I _do_—_not_—_understand_." He said the words emphatically, and I swallowed. "What makes defending Cormac more important than defending yourself?"

"What does that have to do with this?" I demanded.

"Everything." Albus replied immediately, the word sounding like the truth, for all that I didn't want to believe it was. He was still staring at me, to drive home his point, or maybe just to make me uncomfortable—I didn't know.

"I'm the worst kid _in the world," _I paused, driving home my point,_ "_to get stuck with." My voice was hoarse and angry and harsh. "I hate authority. I have anger issues and I'm not brilliant or sweet or gorgeous. I'm decently intelligent and hate people and if I brush my hair in the morning, I look alright." I shook my head. "But Cormac's the sweetest kid I know. And clever as hell. He deserves people giving him a million chances. He can do anything with his life. But he made one mistake, and all your aunt could see was me and my screwiness and she assumed Cormac is as bad as I am because we're related." I pressed my lips together. "I get that I'm a bad kid to get stuck with. But Cormac is _not_. And if she doesn't see that, she can't be someone who's in charge of him."

Silence.

Albus was staring at me. Still. I didn't look away—I'd meant every word I'd said, even though I could already hear the argument he'd make against it. Albus lived in a world where everyone got a trillion chances, everyone had infinite potential. I didn't believe that. I believed that people carted around a given amount of patience with them and expended those patience on people they thought were worth it. And Cormac was worth it.

I looked away from Albus, and beside me, Fred shifted a little; I glanced at him.

"That's a damn good reason to fuck up your relationship with Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron." Fred said after a second.

"I have no specific grievance against your uncle." I said after a second.

"He won't be a fan of you, though, if you got mad at Aunt Hermione." Fred murmured. I shrugged. At this point, I had people much more important than Ron Weasley hating me. If he wasn't fond of me because I'd gotten mad at his wife…well, call it the price of being me.

"Where do you think you're spending break?" Al asked me lowly, but all the accusation was gone, now. He just wanted answers.

Yeah, well. Me too.

"Molly." Albus said painfully when I didn't respond, and I closed my eyes, letting my head hang as I rubbed my eyes with my fingers—I felt tireder, suddenly.

"No fucking idea." I admitted lowly.

"Alright," Albus muttered. I turned, resting my cheek in my hand, studying him sideways. "For the record, also, you are brilliant and gorgeous." He paused. "And as much as you would like to, you don't actually hate as many people as you claim to." He murmured.

"You don't know that." I muttered, smothering the flush that rose in my face. Now he was being nice. I hated when he was being nice when I was trying argue with him. Quite inconsiderate.

"If you had actually hated me," Albus said lowly, his gaze on mine, and I heard a touch of triumph in his tone: it made me want to pinch him. "Like you said you did, at the end of the summer, a hundred thousand times, then you never, ever, ever would have sat with me on the Hogwarts Express."

I stared at him.

"Loser." I grumbled, flopping back against the ground and closing my eyes. I heard Fred chuckle and Albus swear under his breath, and I felt the corner of my mouth twitch into a small smirk.

_Happy freaking birthday, Molly_.

* * *

_Dear Nate,_

_I formally apologize for being a bad big sister. You were right. I told Cormac. And he flipped a shit. Also, he failed Transfiguration._

_I'm taking care of it._

_That was a pretty bad apology too, I realize, looking back at it. But I'm decent at a lot of stuff. Just not apologizing._

_Love,  
Molly_

_P.S. I want to talk to you over the mirror thing. Let's set up a time._

_P. P. S. I have no idea where I'm spending break. Maybe at school._

* * *

Rose never talked to me on my birthday. Cormac only talked to me long enough to hand me my present.

But that was enough.

Because the next day, I demanded Cory show me his Transfiguration homework, and he did, and I was pleasantly surprised to find he'd done it perfectly. Even the classes he'd skipped / homeworks he'd not done hadn't been enough to make him bad at the class. He'd rescue that grade. I'd just have to keep up after him on his homework.

Which was why I was in a sort of alright mood the day after that.

"I love food." Albus declared as he sat down across from me at the table at breakfast that morning. Fred slid into the seat beside me, looking decidedly like he'd woken up ten seconds ago: his hair was all over the place, and his eyes were half closed. Albus reached for the basket of muffins, grabbing one and putting it on his plate, while Fred folded his arms on the table and rested his head on his plate. "I _love _food." Albus repeated, then he took a hearty bite of the muffin; he closed his eyes, making a sound of contentment, and I snorted in laughter as Fred closed his eyes. "In fact," Albus continued, once he'd swallowed, "I love food so much, I think I shall write a sonnet to food." He paused, dramatically, and Fred, beside me, began to snore. Then, "Perhaps I shall actually write a haiku. They're shorter." He paused again, thinking. "Food, delightful thing/Edible tasty product/I love you, foodstuffs."

"Poetry is not your forte." I informed him, and he shook his head, a look of mock-disapproval on his face.

"Ah, but my dear Mollilicious," They were never going to drop that nickname, "it is not my lack of skill, but your lack of appreciation for the fine art of haiku by the masterful Albus Severus Potter." Al said firmly, his eyes slightly narrowed in pretend reflection as he gazed down at his muffin thoughtfully.

"Your name is _ridiculous_." I said after a second. "You should—be a Roman Emperor or something. Seriously. Albus Severus." I shook my head.

"Okay, first off—" Albus began, lifting his head, "Albus Dumbledore saved my dad's life. And Severus Snape—I've never gotten a straight story on him, but he did something that let my dad kill Voldemort." Albus's voice was frank, but now he raised his eyebrows. "And second off—I do not think that the girl whose name means _Sea of Bitterness Blood Storm_," Albus paused, tilting his head to the side a little emphatically, "gets to say _my _name is weird."

"Argh—my mum got pregnant at university—I was a surprise child, my parents didn't plan a name or think to look up the meaning. They just _named _me." I growled, glaring at Albus.

"Shhhhhhh," Fred slurred out beside me, and I frowned at him.

"You're the one sleeping on a plate." I muttered. "Perhaps I am not the party in the wrong, here."

"Shh." Fred insisted, his eyes still closed.

"Your name is pretty pointedly dark to be an accident." Albus muttered.

"What?" I demanded dangerously.

"Nothing." Albus said angelically.

"That's what I thought."

"Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh." Fred hushed.

"Stop shushing," Albus suggested, picking up a muffin and leaning across the table to carefully perch the muffin on Fred's head. Fred mumbled something incomprehensible, but the muffin remained on his head, and I rolled my eyes, as the owls flew in.

They scattered to their respective recipients, and I frowned as an owl I'd never seen before swooped towards me; it dropped a copy of the Daily Prophet in front of me. I frowned; I'd canceled my subscription to the Daily Prophet as the first thing that was unnecessary money waste, when I'd gotten kicked out of the house and been effectively cut off.

There was a note clipped to the front of the paper, and I frowned at it; it was on lavender paper, in curly hand writing. _Molly, consider this copy complimentary, and check the Gossip Section. And I'd love an interview, if you'd care to meet with me your next Hogsmeade weekend. Xoxo, Rita_

"Who the hell is Rita and why does she want an interview?" I demanded aloud, and Fred lifted his head beside me as Albus, across from me, straightened up.

"Lemme see—" Albus said, reaching across, and I pulled the paperclipped note off, passing it to him with a frown even as I lifted the paper, unfolding it.

"Did Skeeter—" Fred asked, his voice tired but alert.

"Fuck it." Albus muttered, holding up the note to Fred. I opened the _Daily Prophet_, opening to the International Page and then turning the pages until I got to the Gossip Page.

The entire above-the-fold was a photograph of Fred, Albus and I, on a street in Hogsmeade from just Saturday. Then another photograph from a few weeks ago, of Rose and I trying on dresses in Hogsmeade. A headline scrawled across just above the fold shimmered temptingly: _THE NEW GIRL WHO'S TAKING OUR FIRST FAMILY BY STORM—OR GALE_.

I dropped the newspaper on the table, spreading it open as I slammed to my feet, so I could stare down at it. An article spread out down the page—I took up the entire thing. I stared down at the article, my eyes flying over the words in a blind rage:

_Alert: a new girl has captured the heart of our favorite Potter! Molly Sienna Gale, the daughter of two muggles, is the new object of affection of Mr. Potter, and, it seems, that he's quite serious about her. "They're never apart," A source at the Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry swears. "Ever."_

_Well, we at the Prophet were quite relieved to hear about this new development; the new generation of Potters and Weasleys has been quite boring, since the Finnigan debacle. But it gets better._

_Molly Gale isn't just some girl that our young Mr. Potter fell for. She is, according to sources, Rose Weasley's best friend, and Fred Weasley's new friend as well. But more than that…she has been in the custody of Hermione and Ron Weasley since August, as confirmed by my Hogwarts source._

_How did this miss our front page, you ask? How was this not headline number one? Well, because, according to people inside the Ministry of Magic, a huge coverup has been going on since Day One of this ordeal. Custody papers were drawn up, signed, and filed in seconds, and for a good reason. Custody was granted to the Weasleys following allegations of abuse against Molly's father, a muggle from Nottingham._

_Tragic, no? Well there's more: Molly has four younger siblings! And it was only when one of the younger siblings got his Hogwarts letter that Molly's father blamed Molly for the brother's magic and had the alleged altercation with her. No wonder she's attached herself to the Weasley-Potter clan, with a family like that._

_This story sounds familiar, doesn't it? Anyone remember Serafina Finnigan—James Potter's girlfriend, the daughter of an old friend of Harry Potter's, whose case was so mishandled by the Ministry that the new child protection laws are part of a bill called the Finnigan Bill?_

_Is Molly Gale the next Serafina Finnigan?_

_"No," My source at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry insisted. "If Sera's an angel than Molly's the angel of death—she could scare a giant into polite conversation." But we at the Prophet believe that Molly needs not be condemned just yet._

_After all, the reason for emergency custody transfer was an allegation of abuse._

_"Molly's anger is definitely a cry for help." Adolescent Specialist Lavender Brown told me over coffee last week. "And her latching onto the Potters is another. She looked for a normal family and found one in the paper—she's just another fame-stricken girl looking for help from the Potters. I wouldn't expect her to stay on the scene for very long."_

_Well, the expert said it best: Molly Gale's using the Potter-Weasley Clan for their fame and wealth. Not a single thing more._

I couldn't read anymore.

My blood was pounding in my ears, my eyes wide and angry and my stomach hurting as I glared down at the paper.

"Molly, she writes poison, the woman's a mental—" Albus's voice was fast and low, trying to get in as much as he could before I snapped.

"She said I was using you for your money." I ground out, lifting my gaze to Albus, and I felt, to my immense embarrassment, a lump in my throat and tears swim in my eyes. Albus stared at me, looking like he just wanted everything to stop—I knew he did. Albus didn't want this for me. I didn't want this for me. "She said my dad—what happened—it's all in the paper." I heard the intense sadness in my voice, the closeness to tears, the way I was about to cry. I wasn't angry. Why was I just panicked? "Every—single—thing—and not even all of it's true, but there is the thing that happened in August, and the custody thing—and—" I fell silent, staring at Albus. "I can't believe this."

"It's alright, Molly, this will blow over in no time—"

"I literally can't believe this." I said, speaking low past the lump in my throat. "I don't...who could have done this?" I asked, looking down at the paper again. In my peripheral vision, I saw Fred's panicked gaze look towarsd Albus. I ignored them, though. This was the worst. "Why does she even fucking care about me?" I whispered, staring down at the paper.

"Because you've been hanging out with me." Al murmured, his voice filled with loathing; I glanced up at him. I'd never heard Albus so angry before. I looked up at him. "This is my own fault, I should have—told Dad to keep a hand on the media coverage of you or something." He shook his head tightly. Al's mouth was set in an angry line and his eyes were dark. This was absurd. "Fuck."

"Who is her source?" I demanded, my gaze locked on his. Everyone knew. Everyone knew. It sounded like a drum in my head—e_veryone knew, everyone knew._ How? Who was responsible for this? Who the hell had talked to Rita Skeeter?

There was only one Hogwarts Student who'd known about the custody thing who I didn't trust to keep their mouths shut.

Celia.

I felt my panic turn to anger, now, the kind of anger that made me see red, the kind that made me capable of taking over nations, winning wards, destroying people. I stepped backwards over the bench, the tears that had been about to overflow disappearing in an instant.

I turned, even as people across the Great Hall, all the students, poured over their copy of the Daily Prophet. A couple of them were already on the article, already telling their friends. I turned sharply down the pathway between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, ignoring Albus's call behind me. People turned from their open copies of the _Prophet_ to stare at me, even as I started towards the Slytherin table. I was deaf to the sound around me, to the low chatter that had begun. The teachers at the head of the hall were inspecting their own copies of the _Prophet_—I heard exclamations as I neared the Slytherin table, my eyes locked in on Celia, now. She was sitting beside Leona Zabini, Erik's older sister, who was in the year above us. I turned sharply onto her row, and she glanced up at me, her eyes widening.

"_You talked to the Prophet_?" I spat at her as I neared her, and it was at that point that Fred caught up with me, his hands locking around my right arm, and he hauled be backwards, even as I jerked forward against him, towards Celia—she leaned back against Leona, her eyes wide as she gaped up at me. I was not this girl who screamed at people in the Great Hall. But this was bad. "You _told _them? How _could_ you?" I forced my voice drop in volume, but the words will still said with all the venom in the world. Fred winced.

"Molly, stop it, this won't make it—" He was talking fast and low and _I didn't care_.

"_How could you do this?" _I demanded, staring at her. "How could you put my life on _display_ like this? I know we're not friends but—Merlin!"

"I didn't do this." She said, her voice nervous and offended. I glared at her, and she straightened up, glaring right back. "You think—do you think _I'm _the _Prophet _Source?" She demanded.

"_OF COURSE I DO!" _My voice was raw and angry and harsh—somewhere in my field of vision, I registered that teachers were rushing towards us, but I didn't care. "_Who the bloody hell else could it be?" _I demanded, forcing my voice to lower: I was trying not to scream at her in the middle of the Great Hall._ "THE SOURCE IS A GIRL! YOU'RE THE ONLY ONE WHO KNEW!" _

"_Molly_!" Albus stepped in front of me, now, putting his hands on my shoulders and pushing me back into Fred, blocking Celia from my vision, and I glared up at him, my eyes lethal. There was no more nice Molly, no more of the girl who laughed and smiled and pretended she was normal. That girl that Albus had spent months coaxing out of me. Now I was just the same girl I'd always been—the girl who saw a disaster and dealt with it head on because that was the only thing I knew how to do. Even if she screwed everyone else over in the process. "Stop it." Albus muttered to me, his words tripping over each other, they were so fast. "She shouldn't have done what she did but this will not help—"

"It's all in the paper." I said to him angrily, but I heard the desperate need for someone to _fix_ this in my voice; judging by the seeming well of sympathy in his voice, he heard that too. "Everything that happened, everything I don't want to talk about with _you_, much less every subscriber to the _Prophet_—"

"Miss Goyle, are you alright?" Professor Gilbert's voice sliced in smoothly behind Albus, somewhere near where Celia was muttering to Leona, and I let go of the breath I'd apparently been holding.

"Miss Gale!" Professor Longbottom called to me as he came up from behind Albus, and I tore my gaze from Al's to look at Longbottom, as angry as I'd ever been again, all the desperate feeling gone. "_What _exactly do you think you are doing?" He demanded, staring at me like he didn't recognize me. I felt a touch of regret and remorse and panic, and I knew I was no good with all of that. I jerked away from Al and Fred, and both boys released me, exchanging a panicked look. Neither of them knew what to do with me, when I was in this state. No one did.

I glared up at Longbottom. "Ask Celia." I spat at him, and I saw Longbottom's eyes widen: I turned into a monster when I was angry. He'd just never been on the receiving end of it. "_She's_ the source for the _Prophet _article." Longbottom hissed out a breath, staring at me, and Fred behind me, muttered something that sounded distinct like a threat to Celia's life. "She _put my private life_ in the _paper_." I reminded him; this, for me, was the worst possible thing. I was obsessively private. Obsessively. And now random strangers knew my business.

"I didn't, Professor." Celia said seriously, her voice sounding slightly frantic now: she knew she was in trouble, she knew she'd been caught.

"She's the only one who could have done it." I growled out, my anger audible in every syllable.

"Why?" Longbottom asked. I gritted my teeth together, glancing up at Albus, who looked down at my sympathy. That made me want to shake him. "It's a girl, according to the article." Albus muttered by way of explanation. "The only girls who know are Rose and Celia."

"Not enough." Longbottom informed me quietly. He stepped closer to Fred, Al and me, and my glare flashed to him. Waves of hatred rolled off of me; Longbottom seemed to hesitate, but he continued. "Both of you, detention next Friday." Longbottom continued lowly, glancing behind Albus to where Celia was: I heard a noise of protest. "If I see you fighting again I'll triple it."

"Uncle Neville, Molly didn't—" Albus tried.

"She doesn't have an ounce of proof." Longbottom said sharply, glancing from me to his nephew , and I glared resentfully at him. "Process of elimination isn't enough to make Celia culpable." Longbottom muttered. "I'm sorry you're in the paper. That is rough. But that is no excuse for behaving this way." He met my gaze, and I stared at him.

"Have you read the article yet?" I asked lowly after a second, my gaze intense on my teacher's. Longbottom hesitated, surprised: most students took their punishment and their scolding and shut up. I wasn't most students.

"Not yet." Longbottom admitted.

"Ah." I glanced loathingly towards Celia, before I looked back up at Longbottom. "Then you missed the part where I'm the _angel of death_." I felt the frightening smirk curl onto my lips as I pulled away from Fred and Al. I took a couple steps backwards towards the door of the Great Hall, speaking to Longbottom as I walked backwards. "Read it and tell me again whether I have no excuse." I murmured. I disentangled myself from Albus, Fred, and Longbottom, and I turned on my heel, walking away from the boys. I heard Albus start in on his would-be uncle a moment later, but I ignored them.

I didn't need them, or this. I'd trusted Celia and now I'd learned my lesson. I was done playing games with them—all of them. No more flirting with Albus, no more long looks or odd emotions or panicked feelings. No more niceness towards Celia, no more toleration of teachers who got involved in things they didn't know or understand.

Celia didn't know who she'd messed with.

* * *

A/N: Thank you, my readers:

bananafreak97  
Skittles31  
Molivline  
studygirl10  
Mia  
ixamxeverywhere  
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KaitlynEmmaRose  
angel2u  
Allen Pitt


	16. Blame it On the Girls

**A/N:** This chapter looked like it might be short in the rough draft.

As you might surmise, not so much.

Happy reading!

* * *

Blame it On the Girls

_Life could be simple but you never fail  
To complicate it every single time,  
Like a baby you're a stubborn child - what's the matter  
Always looking for an axe to grind - what's the matter  
While you're wondering what the hell to do  
We were wishing we were lucky like you  
Blame it on the girls who know what to do  
Blame it on the boys who keep hitting on you.  
__—Mika_

The gossip had started again.

I'd spent a great deal of time, crushing the gossipers, post-my breakup with Rory. Put a lot of work into it. And the stupid article—and Celia Goyle—had destroyed that.

The gossip, this time, was different. It was more disapproving, now—and there was more sympathy being directed to Albus. The fourth years had resumed their obsession with him, and their gossip. And the Hufflepuffs had gone back to trashing me behind my back and falling silent whenever I caught them at it. Rose was still dating Charlie, as observed from afar, but they were looking on the verge of breaking up—at least, according to Rose's usual timetable. But since she still wasn't talking to me, I'd kind of lost track of how long it'd been.

Two mornings after the article came out, the gossip reached its peak. I walked into the Great Hall for breakfast, sleepy and hungry, and _the entire room _fell silent the moment I stepped into the doorway. I straightened up, biting the inside of my cheek as I let a slight glare settle on my features. I hated this.

I walked towards Albus, keeping my head up and flashing a glare at the Slytherin table; Celia was staring at me, and I felt my stomach turn over as I glanced at her. Celia. I'd thought we'd reached some kind of truce, and then it'd turned out to be exactly the opposite. The lull in our battles hadn't been a truce. It'd just given her time to launch her next attack.

"Hey," Albus said lowly as I reached the part of the table he was at: I sank down beside him, swinging my legs over to the bench. I glanced at him tiredly, before I folded my arms on the table, as two fourth years passed us. I heard a muttered _that's her_ before I turned around, glaring at them angrily. They fell silent and skittered away; I turned back to my friends.

"It's been two days of this." Fred muttered. "They need to get something new to talk about." He offered me half a grin. "You're not this interesting. I know." I just looked down at my empty plate. I wasn't in the mood for listening to Fred try to cheer me up. I just wanted to get back at Celia.

"I can't believe she did this." I muttered, my voice low, and I heard Albus sigh beside me as he shifted nervously: he didn't like when I talked like this. "I'm an idiot. I trusted her."

"It's not your fault." Albus said to me quietly.

"Yes, it is." I murmured, lifting my face to look at Albus: he was staring at me with that dark look he got when I talked about my dad or anything else. Albus had begun to understand my perpetual distrust of everything, but he still hated it. "I trusted her. That was my mistake. I won't make it again." I rubbed my temple, feeling a headache pound at my temples.

"The _Prophet_ would have picked you up eventually," Albus muttered. "Lord knows it only took them ten seconds to notice Sera and she and Jamie were eleven." He shook his head, and I looked at him with a deadened look: was he kidding?

"Sera's parents disappeared." I said lowly. "She was an object of fascination herself. I'm just some kid." I shook my head, a small sarcastic smile appearing on my lips; Albus winced in anticipation of whatever slightly sarcastic thing I was about to say. "Or the Angel of Death." I twisted to look at Celia; she was chatting with Erik. She was still perfectly composed: not a hair out of place, her eyeliner applied unfailingly perfectly. I had thought Celia and I were kindred spirits, with our lack of regrets. Now, though…she was just a world-class bitch.

"Molly," Albus had this weird way of saying my name that made me feel a little odd—I shoved that idea down, turning to him. He was watching me, and the second my blue eyes met his green, he raised his eyebrows a little. "Please stop calling yourself that." He said solemnly, and I stared at him. I would never understand this boy. Never. Why would he care if I called myself the Angel of Death? Of all parts of the article, that was the part I minded the least: I really was a little Angel-of-Death-y. Especially when compared to the ever cheery, hard-times-will-pass Serafina Finnigan.

"Let's switch topics." Fred suggested, and I heard the forced levity in his voice. I tore my gaze from Albus's, looking to Fred. "Hogsmeade on Saturday?"

"Yeah." Al forced enthusiasm into his voice. Both boys looked towards me, and I shrugged a little. "Molls, c'mon. It'll be fun." He smiled a little, touching my arm gently. I narrowed my eyes at him, and he grinned impetuously at me.

"I suppose." I muttered irritatedly.

"Hear that, Frederick?" Albus asked, turning to Fred, his grin still in place. "She supposes she can hang out with us." Albus leaned forward, putting a hand over his heart. "I, for one, am kind of flattered. She _supposed _she could work us into her horrifically busy Saturday—"

"Oh, I know." Fred gushed. "I mean, she's got all those things to do on Saturday…glaring at Celia is a full time job." I felt my mouth twitch into a small, half-smile: all I was willing to offer the boys, today. Al looked pleased with himself, regardless, and I shook my head, reaching for the plate of pumpkin pasties. I chose one as the owls flew in: they scattered, one landing on Fred's plate and another on mine. I took my letter and my owl flew off; a moment later, Fred's owl followed suit, Fred's letter in his hands.

"You and your brother literally write each other more frequently than James and I _talk_." Albus muttered, shaking his head. I shrugged, tearing open my letter and pulling it out. I unfolded the letter and two popped out; I picked up the one with Nate's writing.

* * *

_Dear Molly,_

_What happened to spending break with your friend? What was her name, Rose? And how exactly did our brilliant little brother fail Transfiguration? Cormac's a genius._

_I got in another fight at school. No injuries. Scott again. Please spare me the speech—I know I screwed up, Sarah gave me that speech. You would like her. Anyway, the point of me telling you this—Dad had a little bit of a freak out when I came home. Not the same level as on Cormac's birthday, but he threw a picture frame and a vase at the wall. Mum took care of it but I think it's getting worse. He's been weirder recently. We fight more. A lot more. And he walks out a lot—he always comes back, but sometimes it's not till early in the morning. I don't know what's going on with him._

_Love, Nate_

_P.S. Included, a letter from Cal. Ellie drew a picture of a dress on the back. She decided she wanted to be a fashion designer last week. Then proceeded to turn one of our bedroom sheets into a wedding dress._

* * *

_Dear Molly,_

_My football team won our first game today and Nate was there with Daddy. They didn't sit together though. They had a fight, Ellie told me. I was at practice when that happened._

_I miss you. I haven't seen you in a million days. I want to show you my new football shoes (they're spikey!) and I got my own room! Daddy helped me choose the wallpaper—it's blue with boats on it. I love boats. I think it used to be your room though. I don't understand why Daddy would give me your room. Now we each have our own rooms, though!_

_Love, Cal_

* * *

I stared down at each of the papers in my hands—Dad had flipped out again, Nate had gotten in another fight, I no longer had a room.

Dad had flipped out again.

I couldn't send Cormac home to that. But Dad would demand that Cormac come home. He'd said, pointedly, at the beginning of all of this, that Cormac would come home for break. Cormac could home for break. Molly was the devil, but Cory was fine. And I'd rolled with that—more than that, I was _depending_ on that. I could make anything work for myself—I could figure out a place to stay, for one independent, people-hating teenage girl. But figure out a place for a kid—and Cormac was a legitimate _child_—that was significantly harder.

"Everything okay?" Albus asked me carefully, as I looked up from the letters, and I glanced up at him, seeing in my peripheral vision, Fred glance up, too. I exhaled slowly. I didn't want to tell Albus. I didn't want him to know I was losing control of this.

"Fine." I murmured, folding the papers and putting them down on the table.

"Molly—my mum wrote you something—" Fred said, shuffling a paper across the table, and I frowned at him sharply. I'd only met _that_ Ms. Johnson (she went by her maiden name) maybe once. Why was she writing me a letter?

"About?" Al asked.

"She does PR for your parents and James—I assume that Molly's become her unofficial client as well." Fred said, shrugging a little. I took the letter and unfolded it, looking down at it.

* * *

_Molly—_

_Hi, sweetheart. We met over the summer but I don't remember if you remember me: you met an awful lot of people in a few days, and I didn't really stick around very long. I'm Fred's mum. Anyway, since you and Hermione haven't been getting along well, Harry asked me to let you contact you about how we're handling the media._

_There's a big story coming out in about a week—about you and Serafina Finnigan, James's girlfriend; she's the year above yours. We're still working on a lot of the details because Witch Weekly isn't being particularly cooperative, but it seems that it's just two profiles, maybe not even the cover story. It doesn't sound like that big of a story, mostly because everyone but the Prophet is having a hard time getting details on you._

_About the Prophet: I'm sorry that story came out without warning. We didn't even think to watch the media to make sure they weren't publishing stories about you._

_Regards,_

_Angelina Johnson_

* * *

I sighed shortly. A dual profile of Sera and myself. Another opportunity to be portrayed as the Angel of Death next to the nicest girl on the planet.

"Molly?" Al asked. "What's going on?"

"There's another article coming out." I muttered, crushing the letter in my hand this time. I turned it into a ball of crumpled paper before I dropped it on the middle of the table. I swallowed. "Profiling Sera and me in Witch Weekly."

"_Fuck_." Albus swore loudly—my hand flew to his arm, and I squeezed his forearm lightly; the immediate reaction surprised me. Why had I touched his arm? I hated touching people.

"Not a big deal," I told Albus, lowly. Al turned to me, his eyes narrowed, and I felt myself blink in shock: he was angry. Albus Severus Potter was angry with me. What the _hell_? His green eyes were blazing, his face set in this angry expression that I mostly attributed to me and not to him. Because I was supposed to be the angry one. When had Albus ever been angry? I didn't think I'd ever seen him angry before.

Oh, wait. The night my dad had kicked me out.

"Molly, what _fucking _planet do you live on?" He hissed at me, and Fred's head snapped up. "You hate being in the paper! You hate being paid attention to so much that you almost _burst into tears_ in front of me two days ago when that stupid article came out and said what it did." He shook his head. "But the second that someone bristles in your defense, you try to shut them up." He stared intently at me, and I felt panic flood me. I didn't like the point that Albus was coming to. "What the hell is that? You're willing to stand up for anyone and everyone you care about. But the _moment_ that someone tries to return the favor, you shut them down. _What the hell is that?_" Albus fell silent, staring at me, out of breath from his monologue. I swallowed.

"I'm not worth getting angry over." I murmured after a second, my cheeks flaming red with embarrassment. "You're going to wander around in a bad mood and play badly at your quidditch game and this isn't worth that."

Al chuckled, but I didn't hear any humor in it, and I suddenly understood why people found my own sarcastic laugh so frightening; Albus sounded like he was ready to kill someone. "Molly, for the love of_all that is magical"_— He murmured, looking up at the ceiling, and I felt my blush intensify, turning to look at Fred. He was watching me, his eyebrows drawn together; was he worried? Did Fred worry?

"You matter." Fred said quietly.

"Not enough for him to ruin his mood and his day and his game." I countered.

"Please stop." Albus murmured, looking back down to me. I glared resentfully at him; I was a little out of my depth in this conversation, I admitted, but that was never an excuse to talk to me condescendingly. "Molly, I'm not sure what planet you've been living on recently, but let me catch you up." He gestured from himself to me then from me to Fred, then from Fred to him. "_We,_" He did the triangle faster, driving home the point, "are, at the very least, good friends. We spend every spare minute together. You keep us from killing each other, I keep you from killing Fred, and Fred keeps you from killing me. It's a nice balance." He stared at me. "And if we're good friends—and I might make the leap to best friends, at this point, because we are _literally_ together from when we wake up to when we go to bed—that means I get to care." He said it triumphantly. Why would that be a triumph? I thought it was a failure. I spent a great deal of time and effort trying not to care about people—I'd spent at least two months, trying to keep Albus out of my life. And here he was, sounding insulted that I'd thought he didn't care.

I'd assumed that was the goal.

I turned back to face forward, not looking at Albus pointedly as I grabbed my letters. I folded the one from Fred's mother, then the one from Cal, and finally, the one from Nate. I put them in a neat pile above my plate, before I exhaled slowly, looking back at Albus.

"I'm a fucking hard person to care about." I murmured.

"Because you shove everyone away so hard? I hadn't noticed." Albus muttered sarcastically, and I elbowed him, hard.

"I'm being serious." I told him lowly. "If you want to be part of my universe, fine, come on it, you've proved yourself and passed the test and shit." I held his stare firmly. "But I come with about as much baggage as anyone." He scoffed, and I raised my eyebrows. "You disagree?" I demanded.

"Yes." Al said acidically.

"Alright…I hate most people, my family is a walking, talking disaster, and I would rather die than ask for help." I muttered. "What about all of that makes you think—"

"You're actually pretty friendly, and your family isn't screwy, your dad is. You're independent, not help-resistant." Albus retorted, his words fast but confusingly kind.

"You're an idiot." I muttered scathingly.

"There's that friendliness…" Albus said in a fond voice. I rolled my eyes, reaching over and grabbing a croissant. I picked at it irritatedly, glaring down at it, before I heard Fred sigh.

"Molly, my love, my lord, my liege," Fred began in his typical, ridiculous way. I glanced up at him. "At some point, you've got to assume Al and I are permanent." Fred shrugged, a small grin cropping up. "Besides, you're the only girl I've ever been able to legitimately refer to as a friend in this school, so you've got to stick around or my mother will decapitate me."

"You were looking pretty chauvinistic, for a while, I'm not gonna lie, Weasley." Al said, shrugging. I frowned in confusion when Al glanced at me. "Aunt Angelina has decided that teenage boys being able to refer to girls as friends is a sign of maturity—she got it from a parenting book. Al smirked. "And since Fred's hooked up with almost every girl our year, he'd kind of screwed that up with everyone—"

"Ew, stop your words." I said, covering my ears and scowling at Fred across the table. "That's the most disgusting thing I've ever heard." I shook my head, and he grinned delightedly at me. Then came my own curiosity; I dropped my hands from my ears. "Almost every girl our year?"

"Obviously excepting ones I'm related to," Fred began, "the only ones remaining are Hayley Plugs, Devon Watson, Celia, and yourself." Fred grinned at me.

"You've hit the _entire_ Ravenclaw dorm?" I demanded, my eyes narrowed. Fred nodded, still grinning.

"I continue to hope that no one ever realizes that." Fred said. "Though the minute a game of _Never Have I Ever_ starts, I'm in trouble."

I shook my head. "Subject changes now." I pled, ducking my head. "Too early to hear about your sexual escapades."

"Ooh, I like that phrase." Albus said, perking up, grinning. "Sexual Escapades…"

"This is not a good enough new subject." I growled.

"But it's such a good phrase…" Albus objected sadly.

"Sexual Escapades." Fred said carefully, seemingly trying it out.

"Molly," I heard Cory's voice say behind me; I could tell from the uncomfortable tone in his voice that he'd heard Fred. I pressed my lips together, shooting daggers with my eyes at Fred, who was now sniggering. I turned back to my baby brother. "Why were you talking about sexual—"

"Eh." I cut him off with a random noise, and Albus snorted in laughter beside me. "What's up?"

"I need a present for Savannah's birthday." He said, blushing a little. I raised my eyebrows, a small smile creeping up on my face.

"Huh."

"Don't—do that." Cormac said, embarrassed. "I thought you'd be nicer than Nate!"

"I said 'huh'." I pointed out, and Cormac fell silent, blushing. I grinned at him. "Would you like me to pick something up for you in Hogsmeade?" Cormac nodded, seeming to have thought better of speaking. "What?" He shrugged. I raised any eyebrow. "I'm not choosing your girlfriend's present—"

"NOT MY GIRLFRIEND!" Cormac cried, panicked, and I snorted in laughter.

"Hey, we'll do you one better." Albus piped up beside me, and I glanced at him as Cormac looked over uncertainly at him. "We'll help you out of the castle."

"Hmm, no we won't." I cut in, narrowing my eyes at Albus. "He'll get in trouble."

"He won't get caught, silly." Albus said, flapping his hand at me, as if I were a silly little kid.

"He's not coming." I said firmly. I turned to Cormac. "You're not coming."

"Oh, let the kid have a little fun," Albus tried.

"He's got a girlfriend." I said, letting a glint of humor into my gaze as Cormac grabbed my arm and gently tugged on it, in a desperate try to get me to shut up. "He's obviously having fun."

"_Molly…_"

"He's not coming." I repeated. "And since I'm queen of the universe, no more questions." I turned back to my brother. "But what do you want?"

"A necklace?" He tried. I shrugged.

"Maybe. Does she ever wear jewelry?" I asked, and he shrugged. I sighed. We were doing this the hard way. "What does she like to do?" He thought for a second.

"I dunno. She's always with me." He paused. "She likes candy—could I get her a bag of candy?"

"Perfect." I said, smiling a little at him. Cormac nodded unsurely, glancing behind me at Fred before he looked back to me. "I'll buy it for her."

"Thanks…" He said after a second, glancing back at Fred again before he looked down at me, confused. "See you later."

"Alright." I said after a second: Cormac walked away, glancing back at me uncertainly, before he started back towards where his friends were sitting. I watched him go for a moment before I turned back to Albus and Fred. "If either of you losers help him out of the castle on Saturday, I'll murder you."

"Us?" Fred demanded.

"Help a first year evade rules?" Albus jumped in.

"That doesn't sound like us."

"We are rule followers!"

"I love rules."

I sighed, ducking my head to look down at the croissant I'd torn up on my plate. These two losers were the same two who'd just informed me that they were sticking around, for better or for worse.

I was pretty pleased they were sticking around.

* * *

_Dear Nate,_

_Way to bury the lead, bro. I want more information about the Dad freak-out. What set him off? Did Dad hurt any of you? Next time something like that happens, try to reach me on the mirror you gave me. I mean it. I'll be there in a heartbeat. I mean it, I need a promise._

_Second: Dad's getting worse. I'm going to meet with you some Saturday—maybe the one after this one? We need to delve into that._

_Now, onto the other news: Rose's parents got mad at Cormac when he failed Transfiguration. Her mom called him stupid, or lazy, or both—the details got lost in the mix, but the point is, I called her out on humiliating him and she threatened to ground me and I told her to fuck off. On an unrelated note, I'm not currently talking to Rose._

_More news, and it's not good. I don't remember whether or not I've mentioned to you that I've made a couple of new-ish friends this year, but I have: Albus Potter and Fred Weasley. They're Rose's cousins. Their family is famous in our world—it's hard to explain, but Albus's dad killed this evil guy who wanted to take over our world. Rose's Mum and Dad helped in that whole expedition too. Anyway, the newspaper here caught wind of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's new legal guardees, and wrote up an article about how I was dating Albus (FALSE) and using the Potters for their money (FALSE). Not great._

_It mentioned what happened with Dad, and I just wanted to let you know: Cormac saw it and he didn't want to talk about it, but if he mentions it to you, then just be normal, please. He needs normal really badly, and I don't think I'm providing it to him. I'm freaking out a bit myself. Another magazine is picking up the story, apparently—it's running a comparison between myself and James Potter (Al's brother)'s girlfriend—and Cory's probably seen it, even if he is just a first year._

_I'm having a fun week._

_Love, Molly_

_P.S. Did Dad give Cal my room?_

* * *

"What a beautiful day!"

"It's too bright."

"A cloudless sky!"

"I have to squint to see."

"The feeling of the sun on my face is amazing."

"I'm going to get burned. In November, no less."

"Molly." Albus said, slinging an arm around my shoulders as we walked down the path that led from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade. I frowned up at him, the sun heating my face even as a cold wind kicked up around us. Al's arm was warm around my shoulders, and I guessed I thought that was nice, but I had rules, and he needed to respect at least two of them. And he hadn't yet learned to be normal. "Are you actually a vampire, or something? Why no love for the sun?"

"Because it's two degrees out here and I left my sunglasses in my room." I informed him, irritated. "And, perchance, Albus, you could get your arm off my shoulders."

"You just conceded that it was two degrees outside. Arm around your shoulder is not that much human contact, though I do remember that you're allergic to it…" Albus pointed out, a small smile making the corners of his mouth twitch up; I rolled my eyes. This boy. I smothered a smirk of my own, and stopped dead, turning on my heel so that Al and I were standing toe-to-toe; I put a hand on his chest, looking up at him through my eyelashes. Al was wearing a sweatshirt under a jacket he hadn't bothered buttoning up; I touched the zipped, tracing it downwards before I looked up at Albus.

"Hands off, big boy." I murmured to him, before I pulled away, turning back towards Hogsmeade as I started back down the path. I heard a low whistle behind me, and I couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up.

"Do you _hate _me?" Albus called after me. I turned, walking backwards to grin at Albus. He shook his head, grinning at me, and I laughed a little, turning back towards Hogsmeade.

Al would never learn.

Twenty minutes later, Al pulled me into Weasley's Wizard's Wheezes, grinning back at me as we stepped through the door. The shop was the largest in Hogsmeade, an alarmingly vibrant purple, four-story monstrosity that towered over everything else in the town. It was filled to the brim with students, always—I was sure that Mr. Weasley, Fred's Dad, was hated by the Hogwarts Faculty for opening the shop here.

"So this is the infamous Weasley's Wizard's Wheezes," I said, keeping close to Albus as he led me through the crowd; Al's hand closed around mine, and I glanced at him sharply. He didn't even acknowledge the movement, so I didn't say anything, smothering the blush on my cheeks and trying to remember to kick him the second we were out of the crowd.

"You haven't been here before?" His voice floated back: he was still facing forward.

"Never had a reason to come in before." I told him, my voice lower.

"Well, now you do." Al flashed me a grin over his shoulder, before walking forward still. "This is the best store in the universe, I swear." Albus murmured, glancing back at me as we worked our way towards the back of the store. "I'm working in the one in Diagon Alley this summer with Fred, it's going to be amazing…"

"Speaking of Fred, where is your evil twin?" I asked Albus as he pulled me out of the initial crowd, towards the cash register.

"He's meeting us here." Al told me after a moment, and I frowned; that hadn't answered my question. And Albus wasn't usually an evader of questions.

"What's he doing?" I asked Al, my eyes narrowing a little as I caught up to him. He grinned sheepishly at him, and I felt my brain click into thinking mode. Where could Fred be?

He'd told Cormac he'd get him into Hogsmeade.

"_Albus_," I said sharply, the hand that wasn't encased in his sliding up his arm, closing on his bicep; Al stopped in front of the table at the back of the shop, where the cash register was; the kids in line shot us dirty looks as if we were trying to cut them in line. I flashed the fourth year behind Albus a dirty look and her eyes widened, before she turned away. Albus just looked down at me guiltily as I turned my gaze back to him. "Do _not_ tell me that you snuck my little brother into Hogsmeade after I told you _specifically_ not to." Albus didn't respond, just continued to look at me guiltily. "_Albus Severus Potter, so help me God—_"

"You must be Molly." I heard a voice say behind me, filled with badly contained laughter, and I felt my eyes flash at Albus as I turned around sharply. An older version of Fred with paler skin and more freckles was standing behind me, a grin on his face.

I glanced at Albus before I dropped my grip on his arm and released his hand; he let go too, a red flushed color clawing up his neck. I turned back to Al's uncle, smiling tightly to him. "Hi Mr. Weasley."

"Nice to finally meet you." Mr. Weasley said warmly, and I ran a hand through my hair. "Fred and Albus won't stop talking about you in their letters home."

"George…" Albus said, wincing, and I glanced at him, my eyebrows raised; Albus's face turned absolutely scarlet, and I laughed softly.

"I had to, kiddo, I'm sorry." Mr. Weasley grinned wolfishly at his nephew; Albus rolled his eyes, looking down at me.

"Don't listen to him." Albus tried. I smirked, and he winced. "We don't talk about you." He told me, slipping an arm around my waist as he pulled me against him gently, and I raised my eyebrows, putting a hand on his chest as I looked up at him. "We don't!" Albus whined.

"Mm-hmm…" I said sarcastically. "By the way," I continued after a moment, smirking, "Don't think you're off the hook. I'll still kill you." Al winced loudly, ducking his head as I reached down, covering his hand on my waist with my own. I removed the hand gently, putting it back at his side.

"Can I inquire why you're interested in killing my nephew?" Mr. Weasley asked with a grin, and I pushed my hair out of my face, turning my glare on Albus. I wasn't going to tattle on him, but I _was_ going to make him admit it to his uncle. "Not that I don't understand the feeling," Mr. Weasley said, tilting his head to the side to consider the idea. "But I don't recommend it."

"Fred is in process of sneaking her brother into Hogsmeade." Albus admitted, and I flashed my glare up to Albus.

"Ah, my son, following in my footsteps." Mr. Weasley said sentimentally, and I glanced at him, raising my eyebrows. I'd heard bits and pieces of how Fred's parents were by far the most lax in the Weasley Clan—but seeing him be fine with his son sneaking a first year out of the castle was another matter. He grinned at my surprised look.

"If he gets caught, I will charm your Quidditch robes pink." I told Albus, the smirk still in place, and Al raised his eyebrows. "They'll flash different shades of pink and say something that I don't care to say in front of your uncle and _you will be sorry._"

Mr. Weasley laughed at this, even as Albus winced, his face getting paler. "I like her." Mr. Weasley decided, and I heard Albus mutter something that sounded distinctly like _of course you do_. I looked up at Mr. Weasley. "How old's your brother?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"I'm sure you already know since half the Wizarding world knows my business now," I said after a moment, my voice wry. Mr. Weasley didn't even flinch. "But he's eleven. A first year."

"He'll be fine." Albus muttered.

"He's failing a class and has gotten caught pranking a kid once this year already." I muttered. "I'm not letting him go down this path."

"You sound like my mum did whenever I got in trouble." Mr. Weasley said, wrinkling his nose. I sighed shortly. I wanted to say something bitter and angry—something along the lines of _if our mum sounded like me, I wouldn't have to sound like your mum_—but I didn't, forcing myself to stay silent as I bit the inside of my cheek. It wouldn't help anyone. Ranting, being a brat, broadcasting everything. It only hurt myself.

"In her defense, Fred sold her brother the fireworks that got him in trouble earlier this year…" Albus said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "We have a bad track record, here."

"Who has a bad track record?" Fred chirped as he came up beside me. I turned on him, poking his chest, my eyes blazing immediately.

"You snuck Cormac into Hogsmeade?" I asked, my words fast. Fred looked down at me for a moment, his mouth slightly open in shock, before he looked over my head.

"You told her?" He demanded of Albus.

"She's not stupid." Albus muttered resentfully. "She figured it out."

"I can't believe you!" I said angrily, smacking Fred's arm. "You _know_ that I asked you specifically _not _to bring him here because he's a first year and he's going to get caught and get in trouble and that is going to make my life harder." I narrowed my eyes; Fred's, in contrast, widened. "Do you remember what happened last time you made my life harder?" I asked him lowly. "I turned you into a canary." I reminded him. "I could do that again."

"I feel like you would make a really good assassin." Mr. Weasley pointed out.

"Don't infuriate her further, please…" Albus begged.

"Where is he?" I demanded of Fred, who shook his head.

"I cannot rat out a fellow trouble-maker—"

"If you don't rat out Cormac," I began dangerously, "I'll buy every single trick in this store and you will walk around in fear for the rest of the year." I grinned competitively up at him. "And before you contradict that—you _know_ I will do it."

"He will be fine." Fred told me, putting his hands on my shoulders. "Relax."

"You have courage, dear boy, but perhaps a brain between your ears would prevent you from not telling here where Cormac is…" Mr. Weasley chimed in, and Fred glanced up at his father.

"Oh. Hey Dad." He said, raising a hand, and Mr. Weasley chuckled.

"Hey Freddie." He said, and Fred winced at the nickname. "Your mum wants you to write her back sooner rather than later, by the way…" Mr. Weasley raised an eyebrow now. "And your sister would love to hear from you…"

"Roxanne wishes she was adopted so she wouldn't be related to me…" Fred pointed out to his father tartly, and George chuckled; I glanced back at Albus, smiling a little.

"Write her." Mr. Weasley ordered, before he glanced at Albus. "And your dad would like to hear from you." I glanced back at Albus, feeling the surprise on my face before I shoved it away, leaving my face blank. Albus avoided my gaze, looking firmly at Mr. Weasley, and I felt something that felt like an inch of concern work its way into my stomach.

"You haven't written your dad recently?" Fred asked, and I heard the confusion in his voice.

"Drop it." Albus ordered quietly, and I stared up at him, my lips slightly parted in shock. Albus looked down at me, and I bit the inside of my cheek, keeping silent. I glanced at Fred, and he shrugged once. I looked back at Albus, hating the feeling gnawing at my stomach. I was worried about Albus. Al wasn't responding to his dad's letters. Al was a tiny clone of his dad. How they could ever be at odds over anything was a mystery to me.

"Hey Dad, d'you want to show me something…far away…no, farther away…" Fred said suddenly, surging forward and grabbing his Dad's arm. He dragged him far from Albus and I, even as Mr. Weasley craned his neck to look back at us.

I looked up at Albus seriously, letting my blue gaze settle on his green on in the way I did only when I needed to know something. As much as I hated the way that Albus could see straight through every expression on my face, I knew it worked in reverse. I could catch Al in a lie, if I wanted to. More than that, though, was the fact that he seemed less likely to lie directly to my face, no matter how much he tried.

"You're not talking to your dad?" I asked quietly. A small, unhappy smirk worked it's way onto Al's features; almost immediately, I wanted to make him laugh, smile, grin. Anything other than that expression. It was too bitter. Too much like my own expressions, half the time.

"You caught that, did you?"

"As you pointed out to Fred not five minutes ago, I'm not stupid." I hissed. Albus exhaled impatiently, looking around the store.

"I thought you didn't like talking about private things in public places." He muttered, looking back down at me after a moment, desperate to prove a point that would get us off this subject.

"This crowd doesn't give a damn about me or you or our problems." I told him, my voice low and firm. I wasn't letting him off the hook, here. "Crowds can be truer promises of privacy than empty rooms. You can bug an empty room, someone can be around a corner, behind a column. Crowds drown out bugs, push people around so no one who wants to listen can stay very long." I felt the corner of my mouth twitch up at the shocked look on Albus's face. "I'm paranoid, it comes with the territory." I informed him lowly, and I saw a flash of pain through Al's eyes—he always looked so physically in pain whenever I referenced my father or my home life or anything negative. "What is going on with you and your dad?"

"Why do you get to keep your family life private and why do I have to broadcast mine?" Albus demanded lowly, glaring down at me. I stared at him. I needed to know what happened between Al and his dad. And I didn't know why and I couldn't think about it too hard because I was too busy propping up my parents and my siblings and my school work to dedicate a whole lot of thought to deciphering Albus and his nonsense.

"I'll trade you information." I offered after a moment. Albus blinked.

"What?" He demanded.

"I'll tell you something going on with my family if you'll tell me what's going on with your dad." I said lowly, my eyes narrowed. "Can't you _hear_?"

"I'm just a little shocked by the offer." Albus murmured, frowning at me. "You hate sharing with people."

"I also thought I hated you and yet here I stand." I said softly. Albus sighed, looking away as he ran a hand through his hair. It was already messy—perpetually messy, how was that even possible? Didn't his mother teach him to brush his hair?—but he just messed it up again, the hair on top of his head sticking up oddly. I felt the distinct urge to brush it down, but I just opened and closed my fist. Albus did weird things to my brain.

"I got into an argument with my father—the father I've never argued with before, not seriously, anyway—over you, Molly." Albus admitted after a moment, harshly, as the words tore themselves from him. He didn't want to say them. "Over what he's doing with you. Over how Hermione and Neville and Dad and Ron and Mum and _everyone_ are handling this…" He gestured to me, "_situation_." Albus's gaze bored down into mine. "Because everyone's being too hard on you. And I told him that. And he told me that I was biased, and I told him that I was right, and he was the one who was biased because he couldn't see a kid in a bad home situation and not understand extenuating circumstances just because he wanted out from his aunt and uncle's every day he was there." Albus fell silent, his jaw tensing as he closed his mouth tightly, and I stared up at him.

"That's stupid." I muttered after a second. Al choked out a laugh.

"I defended you to my mum, my dad, my aunt, my uncle, our head of house—and it's stupid? That's all you have to—Jesus, Mary and _Joseph_, Molly…" Albus shook his head, sounding completely bewildered and more than a little cross. "What the hell do you want from me?"

"I mean…not stupid, just—" I shrugged. "Family comes first." I pressed my lips together. "I'm not family."

"You're my best friend, stupid." Albus muttered, blushing hastily. "That means I defend you. Even if it's to my father who can't spend two seconds outside his bubble of perfect-world-he-must-protect to realize that the world is painted in shades of gray."

I bit my lip, feeling a surge of affection for the boy in front of me. And…I wanted to hug him. Oh, gross. I never hugged people. I hated hugging. I was Molly Gale. Hugging by Molly Gale was reserved for small children who'd scraped their knees. Not for boys who had revelations that made me feel slightly less alone in this war against the world I'd been waging since my dad had kicked me out.

Especially not Albus Severus Potter-like boys.

Albus had defended me to his dad. And not just me as a person, but me as a cause. Albus wanted to keep me sane. He wanted me to get what I wanted because he believed I could handle this crap.

I swallowed my pride this once and let my arms slide around his skinny chest, wrapping my arms around him tightly. I turned my head to the side, pressing my cheek against his warm jacket, and his arms encircled me almost reflexively, thought I felt his surprise in the slight hesitance before he hugged me. "Thank you." I murmured into his jacket, and I felt his chin rest on my head; I closed my eyes. This was nice. I felt safe and warm and _normal_, here.

But I wasn't normal.

I pulled away after a moment, looking up at him seriously, and Albus looked surprised, but elated. He grinned at me. "You just hugged me." I blushed.

"I'll kill you if you tell anyone." I told him shortly.

"You _hugged_ me." Albus said, smug smile in place.

"Stop."

"Fine." Albus said, shrugging, and then he let his grin fade a little. "So I told you about my family issue. Let's hear about yours." I winced, then hesitated, looking around to see if there was an immediate Albus distraction available. When I found none, I looked up at him.

"My brother got in a fight at school, and my dad found out." I said, my voice soft. "He flipped out." Al's face went pale. "He didn't hurt anyone. He broke a vase and a picture frame but not any people." I paused, keeping my face carefully blank. "I don't think I can send Cormac home for break." I swallowed past the fear that was bubbling up in me—I was a Gryffindor. I didn't feel fear. More than that, I didn't _show_ it.

"What's the plan?" Albus asked quietly, and I shrugged a little.

"Leakey Cauldron Christmas," I said, with a flicker of a fake smile, and Albus winced.

"I'd offer to let you stay with us, but Hermione will be there the whole time." Albus said lowly. I raised my eyebrows.

"You'd let me stay with you?"

"If you keep questioning our friendship, I'll have to resort to drastic measures, here," Albus muttered, rolling his eyes. "Of course I'd let you stay with me." His gaze locked on mine firmly, and I inhaled slowly. I had to regain what made me Molly, here. I'd _hugged_ Albus. Time to shut this down.

"I'd hug you again if I wasn't allergic to hugs." I muttered, and he chuckled. I sighed, looking around the room full of students again. I spotted where Fred was holding his father hostage, in the back, talking to him animatedly, and I smirked a little. "We better go intervene before your evil twin tattles on you to his father."

"I don't appreciate his being the evil twin, because that implies I'm the good twin," Albus pointed out. "And I refuse to have my trouble-making reputation tarnished like that. I am _plenty_ evil."

"One day," I began in a condescending voice. "You'll be as evil as Frederick the Prankster over there, but until then, Long Live the King." I gestured to Fred, and Albus sighed dramatically, and I started towards Fred, eager to shut down this conversation.

It was making me think too much.

* * *

_Dear Molly,_

_ Dad gave your room to Callum. He donated all the stuff that was left to a homeless shelter. I tried to stop him, I swear, but it didn't do much. He found one of your old photo albums the night before he decided to get rid of everything in your room—I think that's what made him get rid of everything. He tried to throw that out too—the Homeless Shelter had no use for it—but I saved it and gave it to Sarah to hold on to. _

_ Speaking of Sarah, I think she's catching on that there's something weird about Dad. Her parents want to have dinner with our parents. I haven't even told Mum and Dad that I've got a girlfriend. And I haven't told Sarah that Mum and Dad don't know about her, but I think she's figuring it out. I'm pretty sure she's offended. I shouldn't tell Mum and Dad, though, right?_

_ Onto your stuff: am I supposed to translate that into you being a famous? Are you famous, now? That's a wee bit ironic. The girl who hates being paid attention to is famous._

_ Mocking over now, I swear. I'm sorry you were in the paper. If I knew any magical people I'd brag about my famous sister…Just kidding._

_ I can meet you next Saturday, on the 26th? Would that be okay? If you have any time afterwards, you can come to Cal's football game. He'd be thrilled._

_Miss you,_

_Nate_

* * *

"I'm hungry."

"You're always hungry." Fred said to me, his eyes brightening as he looked up at me. "For someone so small, you eat so much…" Fred shook his head, taking a bite of his roast beast the next night of dinner. He chewed it thoughtfully, before he swallowed, and continued. "What you eat every day could probably feed a third world country for a year." He speared another piece of roast beast.

"I would be morbidly obese if I ate that much." I pointed out. Fred shrugged, popping the food into his mouth.

"Details?" Albus suggested, and Fred nodded emphatically. Albus looked at me. "Details."

"Hey guys." Rose said confidently as she slid into the seat beside Fred, and immediately, Fred, Albus and I fell silent. I stared at her—Rose hadn't spoken a word to me in weeks. She piled some food onto her plate as if it were perfectly normal for her to sit next to us, to talk to us. She took a hearty bite of treacle tart, swallowed, and looked up at us. She glanced from Al, to Fred, to me. "I dumped Charlie, he's an asshole, you," She pointed her fork at Albus, "were right, and I," she pointed her fork to me, "am sorry."

I stared at her. This was such a classic Rose apology. Unapologetic, even when she was saying "I am sorry."

But this was Rose. And I didn't have many friends these days. I couldn't let Rose—the forever best friend—go because I was mad she'd ditched me for a boy.

"Alright," I said, shrugging a little. "No more of this nonsense, though, okay?" I asked. Rose nodded.

"I swear, up and down and round and round." She said flippantly. I sighed exasperatedly, looking at Albus. He shrugged, a small smile on his face.

The crew was back together.

* * *

**A/N: **As always, a massive batch of thankyous to my amazing reviewers who literally keep me working (despite history projects, english projects, chem tests, english tests, poetry recitations galore...):

SpencerReidFan89  
molivline/molive again  
McGonagall is My Idol  
Eve K  
angel2u  
StudyGirl10  
KiwioftheLemons  
NotADreamNotYetANightmare  
KaitlynEmmaRose  
alicecullenisrealinmyworld  
hushpuppy22  
ixamxeverywhere  
Allen Pitt

SUPER special shoutouts to _NotADreamNotYetANighmare, KaitlynEmmaRose_ and _Allen Pitt_. Loyal, loyal, loyal reviewers. Thanks guys :)


	17. The Girl's a StraightUp Hustler

The Girl's a Straight-Up Hustler

_She gets what she wants and she breaks what she gets,  
Get out while you can or she'll tear you to pieces…  
I've got no place in my heart, For a criminal lie you to dwell,  
I'm just delirious, you can't be serious,  
You're so infamous for leaving me a mess._

_-All Time Low_

If someone had asked me, in October, whether or not Divination could have gotten worse, I would have told them no. No, of _course_ not. I mean, the class was already terrible—too terrible, I was sure, to get measurably worse. What could have been worse than having to work hard at a subject that wasn't really a subject at all, because Divination was nonsense and people who took it seriously ludicrous idiots?

Well, it turns out, the thing that makes _that_ worse is being partners with the girl who told the newspaper about life.

I sauntered into Divination, five minutes late, my eyes narrowed already; I was late in my effort to correct Cormac's Transfiguration homework—so help me God, he was going to get an O in that class—but that had put me in a foul mood, and now I walking up to an hour with Celia Goyle. My new favorite day. Not.

"Sorry." I muttered to Professor Trelawney as I passed her, pushing my bag higher on my shoulder, and she made a judgmental noise in the back of her throat but said nothing, so I took that to mean _don't let it happen again_. But I didn't care. This was Trelawney. The bat woman could fail me, and I'd give no more of a damn than I did right now.

I sank onto the stool, determinedly shooting a glare at Celia as I dropped my book onto the table. She didn't cower for even a second under my gaze, and I felt a wave of resentment hit me. I hated her.

"Nice of you to show up." She muttered sarcastically. I shook my head once, trying to restrain myself from responding as I glanced up at the board in the middle of the classroom; we were working on page 418. I flipped the pages of my back determinedly, my hand going faster and faster until my anger at her spilled over sloppily.

"I'm not sure you're anyone to scold me about reliability," I hissed at her, my head snapping up as I leaned forward over the table. Celia rolled her eyes, scoffing a little as she glared at me, slamming her own book down on the table with a loud banging noise—I saw, in my peripheral vision, the kids around us turn to glance at us. At least, the ones who weren't already staring at us.

"Fuck you, Molly." She growled at me, and I kicked her under the table, letting a cruel smirk curl on my features. She didn't flinch. "I can't believe you still think I did this." She muttered, shaking her head. "I guess you're _just _as dumb as you look…"

"I can't believe you're still denying it." I muttered, staring at her. "This is fucking ridiculous. I _know _it was you. There's no point to denying it now except for the fact that you're ashamed that you did it and _screw you_. I don't care if you're ashamed. I get the right to your admission of guilt."

"I have better things to do than talk to the _bitch_," She spat the word as she dropped her school bag on the floor beside her chair, and I rolled my eyes; if this girl didn't think I could take being called a _bitch_, than she had no _idea_ who she was up against, "who won't even listen to me long enough to—" She tore open her book, and there was a small explosion—my chair, charmed to stay upright, slid backwards into the table behind me, and my head snapped backwards as purple smoke enveloped our little table. I coughed, wincing at my sore neck as I swiped at the purple smoke, waving it away, and used my other hand to press to my neck.

"Are you _kidding _me." I heard Celia's voice—lethal but quiet—interrupt, and I focused on her as the smoke drifted upwards.

She was covered in scales. Shimmery, purple-blue scales that would have been _beautiful _on a fish. But on a girl…well…

I couldn't help myself, even though I knew it wouldn't help my case in the inevitable punishment that would be handed out to whoever had done this; I burst out laughing. I folded over in my chair, my breath leaving me as I felt my shoulders shake with laughter—I heard, around us, shouts of laughter, and I heard Celia cursing, loudly, even as tears of laughter hit my eyes.

"Miss Goyle, perchance you would like to visit the kindly Madame Pomfrey," Trelawney said, her voice a little tense, but still retaining her usual wispiness.

"I'm _going_ to kill you." She said lowly to me, her gaze glued to me—I was just cracking up, though. I couldn't even breathe enough to respond, and she shoved herself to her feet, grabbing her book and throwing it at me; it soared easily over my head and I heard Maia, the Hufflepuff girl I hated, mutter something.

"No throwing!" Trelawney said shrilly, and Celia threw me a look that would have made me glare at her—if she hadn't been fish girl.

"I know you did this." She hissed, coming around the table, and I grinned recklessly up at her, straightening up as I tried to suppress my laughter enough to hold a conversation.

"As much as I wish I could claim credit, I can't." I said, still grinning, and Celia's eyes, now seeming so much brighter in her face in comparison to her now-blue-and-purple-scaled skin, narrowed. "I do wish, however, to commend whatever brilliant person came up with this…" Celia gritted her teeth.

"I'll make sure this is nailed to you." She murmured, and I tried to think of a reasonable response; then a giggle snuck up and I figured out what to say.

"I really…" My laughter got out of hand, and I worked to shut it down before I started again. "I just can't take you seriously with the scales." I said with a smile, and she stared at me for a moment before she turned sharply, beelining for the door. She stormed outside, slamming the door behind her, and I felt the laughter bubble up from my lungs as I glanced across to Albus and Fred—they were having an actual mental break, cracking up. Albus caught my eye and he slapped Fred's arm: both boys straightened up in their seat, smothering their laughter as they saluted me. I grinned at them, scooting my chair forward and back to the table.

Celia had been taken care of. And I owed the boys. Big time.

* * *

_The Face Off: Serafina Finnigan vs. Molly Gale_

_ Who would have thought this day would come?_

_ And no, not the day that Albus Potter finally got himself a girlfriend. No, the day when we questioned Serafina Finnigan's status as the Wizarding World's most popular Witch._

_ Serafina has been a favorite since she was eleven—successfully becoming James Potter's best friend at Hogwarts before her parents disappeared. Pretty, cheerful, and easy to support—and pitiable. She was a sweet kid with one of the handsomest big brothers this world has seen, a best friend with a famous family, and parents who were abducted while working for the Ministry in a case so top secret, the details haven't yet been released. It is no wonder that the public love her._

_ But Molly Gale stepped on the scene this fall._

_ Albus Potter's new girlfriend—though, our source inside Hogwarts says, "they won't cop to it!"—and now in the custody of Hermione and Ron Weasley, along with her little brother, Cormac. The facts of the custody switch remain unclear, but since the new laws only allow muggle-born children to be removed from their parents' care after allegations of serious abuse, the rumors are flying as to what exactly drove Molly from her home. According to my source inside of Hogwarts, however, "she'd never accept pity." And, apparently, Molly has no interest in her new legal guardians. She wants to be returned to the custody of her parents, and has apparently said this to her new legal guardians, several times._

_ The difference between the girls is more than that. Serafina and Wesley Finnigan are perfect, blond and gorgeous—too easy to love. Molly and Cormac Gale are the kids next door. We all know that family—the one with the parents who can't get their act together, the kids who end up screwed up. Molly and Cormac are those kids. They are relatable in a way that the Finnigans aren't, because they're far too perfect. _

_ So the faceoff stands; the cheerleader vs. the girl next door. The girl we've loved forever, or the new girl._

_ Witch Weekly has to throw our collective support behind Molly Gale. After all, despite our love for the Finnigans…the Gales seem so much more interesting. We've run the Finnigans dry._

_ And we're just getting started with the Gales.

* * *

_

"Bloody hell." James Potter cursed, dropping the magazine onto the table. He, Sera, Louis Weasley, Al, Fred, Rose, and I were sitting in the Great Hall; Sera and I had gotten complimentary copies of Witch Weekly, because we were the subject of it. The Article was on the right page, and on the left page, the one facing it, there were pictures, two of me and three of Sera.

"Molly, I hereby hand over the imaginary crown of press coverage." Sera said with a grin across the table. I shot her a death-glare: Hardy-har-har, let's laugh about how the press was stalking me. Hilarious.

"I don't want that crown." I muttered, pulling my hair back into a ponytail, and Al chuckled.

"You mean the girl who has scared fourth-years into silence before to stop them from talking about her doesn't like being on the cover of _Witch Weekly_?" Albus demanded.

"I'm shocked." Fred decided.

"Stunned." Albus agreed.

"Surprised."

"Scandalized."

"I'm cutting this synonym party off, but points to all for participation." I slid in, reaching across the table for a muffin and putting it on Fred's plate. Fred looked down at it like it was the poisonous apple that had Eve banished from the Garden of Eden. "Eat that instead of talking." I ordered. Fred unwrapped his muffin, looking contented as he took a huge bite of it. Then, with his mouth still full of Lemon Poppyseed Muffin, he began to speak.

"I ca' tal' 'n' ea' a' 'e sa'e ti'e." Fred said incomprehensibly, but I could take a stab at what he'd meant.

"Stop." I said firmly, looking back down at the magazine in front of me and inspecting the double-page story. This was a disaster. And the dating thing. That was bad too. Albus and I weren't dating. And the newspaper thought for sure we were.

"We're not even dating." I muttered, closing my copy of the magazine and putting it carefully down on the table. "The world needs to stop treating that like a fact. It's wrong." Albus, beside me, nodded mutely, but he bumped my leg under the table with his, and I glanced up at him. He smiled weakly at me, and I pushed a few strands of hair out of my face tiredly; they'd escaped my ponytail already.

"Why are you standing like this in this photo, then—" Rose asked, grabbing Sera's magazine and holding it up, her index finger tapping the specific photo she wanted me to focus on.

It was just from last weekend, when we'd been in Hogsmeade—all of the photos of me were from Hogsmeade, probably because I'd only become famous in the last article, and since then, the only places I'd been were Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, and Hogwarts was off limits to photographers. The photographer was quite close to Al and me, and we were walking into Fred's Dad's shop. Al was twisted back, looking back to me and grinning, and I was saying something, smiling as we walked inside, him leading the way.

We were holding hands.

Ahhh. We were holding hands. I was holding hands with Albus in a photograph in a magazine. Where we were smililng and walking around a town. As much as I hated assumptions and people who made them, the leap to Albus and my being on a date wasn't a huge leap.

"There was a crowd in the shop, it wasn't a thing." Albus said after a second, and I felt his gaze burn my cheek; I kept my face carefully blank as I looked at him grimly, feeling my heart pound in my chest. Had I been holding hands with Albus? My mind raced; I hadn't even seen the photographer. How had I missed a photographer? I was paranoid as all hell. Holding hands with a boy didn't change that.

"I don't hold Molly's hand going into shops." Fred pointed out, and I turned my glare to him. He just grinned at me, and I wondered if killing people carried the same penalty in the Wizarding World as it did in the Muggle one. Of course, they didn't have Fred in the Muggle World. Surely he was an exception to the rule.

"For that I am eternally grateful." I murmured. Fred frowned in confusion at me, and I smirked sarcastically. "If you've hit the entire Ravenclaw dorm with your _mouth_, I do _not_ want to know where your hands have been…" James Potter barked out a laugh while Louis Weasley sighed, shaking his head.

"Where do you even find the time for these things, Frederick?" Louis demanded.

"He sneaks off when Albus and Molly are caught up in their angsty sexual tension." Rose said uninterestedly, flipping through my copy of _Witch Weekly_. I turned slowly to glare at her pointedly, but it didn't matter; she was not paying attention to me _at all_. "God, that's such a cute dress." She murmured, lingering on a page with a floor-length black dress that had some sort of shimmery thing going on.

"While I appreciate the new addition of trying to wear clothing, can we try to make it slightly less see-through?" I asked, frowning down at the dress, and Rose looked up at me, her eyebrows raised.

"You shall learn my slutty ways soon enough, young grasshopper." She grinned suddenly. "I'm very proud of myself. That was a muggle reference." I snorted in laughter.

"From a TV series like 50 years ago…"

"Hey, muggles haven't figured out magic yet." Rose retorted, scoffing. "I think we are, by all measurements, far ahead of them in terms of intellectual advancement. Despite our lack of young grasshoppers."

"My darlings, my loves, my ladies, why are we talking about immature insects?" Fred asked. Rose and I ignored him.

"Muggles don't have magic, it's not that they haven't figured it out." I told her, and she rolled her eyes.

"Still under debate, but it's definitely true that little muggle children exposed to magic have higher chances of being magical, which implies…" Rose waved her hand in the air, "contagiousness." She shrugged. "Nothing definite, obviously, but you understand what I'm talking about.

I frowned at Rose. Being exposed to magic made muggle children more likely to be magical. Not a sure thing, but it was like a disease—if you sat next to someone who was sick, you were more likely to get sick than the kid across the room.

You could infect people.

I had infected Cormac.

I shoved that thought away, closing my eyes as a flash of Cormac's birthday slipped into my brain—Dad accusing me of infecting the kids. Cormac's magic was my fault. An accident, sure. But my fault none the less. Dad had been right—I'd done this to him. It wasn't even a second of memory, but it was enough to make it obvious, at least to the ever-attentive Albus, that something Rose had just said had led my thoughts somewhere negative.

Albus frowned at me but I pushed on, cutting off whatever he might have been about to say. "What time is it?" I asked the group, and Louis Weasley glanced at his watch.

"Ten to eleven." Louis said easily, looking up at me after a moment. "Why?"

"I'm going to my brother's soccer game." I said easily, grabbing my cup full of pumpkin juice and lifting it to my lips as James looked sharply at Albus. Fred raised his eyebrows, and Sera frowned at me.

"Will your dad be there?" Sera asked.

"Not that it's any of your business," I said lowly to her, earning myself a glare from James Potter as Sera blushed heavily, "But no."

"How are you sure?" Al asked. I frowned at him, and he frowned back; no matter how many times I told him to butt out, Albus would insist on knowing everything about my business. "Your dad would go to Nate's game—"

"Not to Cal's game." I retorted, rolling my eyes. Albus watched me wearily; he knew me well enough to know that I'd lie if I wanted to, guiltlessly. My family was a weird topic. "And not to Nate's game either—Dad doesn't go to events that he doesn't absolutely have to." I frowned at him.

"You still talk to your family?" Sera asked me curiously. I frowned at her. I didn't like Sera. I didn't trust people who were so cheery all the time—that meant that something was really wrong below the surface and they just weren't willing to admit it.

"I have three little siblings who don't go to this school. I'm not just leaving them there." I said flatly to her, and she nodded once, as if this made sense to her, and I resisted the urge to shake her. I didn't care if it made sense to her. She didn't even deserve to know.

"When's Cal's game?" Fred asked, leaning forward.

"In twenty minutes." I said, smiling a little. "The kids don't know I'm coming. Nate and I thought it would be a nice surprise…"

"How are you getting there?" Sera asked, and my smile dropped from my face as I glared at her. Albus chuckled.

"Molly doesn't like questions." Fred noted, sounding amused.

"Charming." James murmured sarcastically.

"Yeah, cause you have such a winning personality…" I muttered, and Albus barked out a laugh with Louis Weasley.

"Munchkin coming up." Fred said, straightening up, and I twisted to see Cormac coming up behind me. Ever since Cormac had walked up behind me in the middle of our conversation about _sexual escapades _(something that I didn't want my baby brother hearing me talk about), we'd all kept an eye out for Lily Potter, Albus's little sister, and Cormac.

"Hey kid," I said, and he smiled a little at me; I glanced over his outfit, making sure I was willing to take him places looking like he did. He'd seemingly brushed his hair this morning, which was a step up for Cormac the messy. I was, frankly, a little touched that he'd done that. He wanted to impress Nate. "You brushed your hair." I said with a grin.

"No I didn't." Cormac muttered defensively.

"And put on clean clothes."

"No!" Cormac muttered, and I heard Sera laugh softly behind me; Cory blushed. It was some sort of badge of honor for eleven-year-old boys to not care what they looked like. I didn't know why Cormac had jumped on that bandwagon, but it bugged me.

"Whatever you say, kiddo." I said after a moment, my voice gentler, and I glanced back at Al and Fred. "I'll see you guys later. Have fun in Hogsmeade, but," I glanced at Rose warningly, "buy me a dress for the holiday dance, and I'll kill you."

"You literally just ruined my day." Rose whined as I pushed myself to my feet, stepping over the bench.

"I mean it. No dress." I told her determinedly.

"But Molly…"

"Rose Weasley, I mean it."

"You sound like my mother." She retorted, and I rolled my eyes.

"You sound like my seven-year-old sister." I muttered, unphased, and she sighed.

"Why do you always win these little tiffs we have…?" She muttered, disgruntled, and I smirked.

"Because, darling, I'm always right." I said, and Rose shook her head.

"Albus is rubbing off on you, Smuggy McSmuggerson." She said, glancing down at her cousin, and I felt my smirk fade. That bothered me. Normally it wouldn't, but it did, and I knew, in the small sane corner of my mind that I allowed to acknowledge such things, it was because I'd been wondering that too. Albus _had_ been rubbing off on me.

And I wasn't sure that was a bad thing.

"Let her buy something." Fred said, cutting off that train of thought, and I glanced at him gratefully before hearing what he'd said; my expression turned into a frown. He grinned at me, and I braced myself for whatever he was about to say. "You wanna look _purdy _for the dance…" He glanced at Cormac before back at me, his grin growing. I pulled Cormac back against me, covering his ears even as Fred started his sentence, "I mean how do you expect sexual escapades without looking _purdy_?"

"Fred, my brother's eleven." I said firmly to him, narrowing my eyes. "I'm not introducing the idea of sexual escapes to him. Quit it."

"Molly, your brother's eleven." Fred retorted. "He's _definitely_ stumbled upon sexual escapades by now."

"I can still _hear_ you." Cormac said, looking up at me. I turned my glare down to him, and he blinked. "No I can't. I take it back."

"Smartass," I muttered, releasing him, and I gave him a light shove in the direction of the doors to the Great Hall. "Wait for me at the door." I told him, and he shrugged. I turned back to the boys and Rose.

"Have a nice time." Albus said, and I reached down instinctively, squeezing his shoulder lightly. I really had to stop

"Later." I muttered, nodding as I pulled back, and I turned around as a hasty blush clambered up my cheeks. God. What was wrong with me, today?

I reached the end of the hallway, claiming my baby brother without a word and starting towards Longbottom's office; Cormac glanced up at me uncertainly, but said nothing.

Smart kid.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Cormac and I stepped onto the football field. It was lightly snowing, but nothing too heavy, and anyway, I'd brought heavier coats for Cory and myself, in my bag. Rose had taught me the charm to make my bag hold a ridiculous amount of things.

"Where are they?" Cormac asked nervously, looking around the field as we approached. I let my gaze scan the crowd, recognizing a couple of people—parents of friends, parents of my siblings' friends. But I didn't care about them. I only cared about—

"_MOLLY!" _Ellie cried happily as she flew across the football field. I felt the grin break out on my face and I completely ignored my reflexive desire to get rid of it as Ellie leapt at me and I caught her; she wrapped her arms around my neck, her legs around my waist as she literally clung to me, and I hugged her tightly, pressing my face into her shoulder. I felt a wave of calm sweep me—Ellie was safe, here, in my arms. Dad hadn't broken anyone.

"Hey baby girl," I murmured, grinning as I settled her weight on my hip—even as small as she was, Ellie was a bit much to be carrying. But I did _not _care.

Ellie pulled back, grinning at me, and I let her slide to the ground, grinning to her. I looked up to see Cal fidgeting on the outside of his team huddle; he looked at me desperately, and I laughter out loud, looking up to his coach. The coach glanced at me, and I lifted a hand in greeting; the man had been my own football coach in the ten seconds I'd played as a little kid, and he was the dad of one of Nate's friends. He grinned at me, and I grinned back, feeling friendly, before I gestured to my antsy little brother; the Coach followed my gesture, and then tapped Cal's head and made a _go on _gesture. I started forward, leaving Ellie to leap at Cormac, and maybe two steps onto the proper field, a good twenty feet forward from Cory and Ellie, Cal slammed into my legs, almost toppling me; I laughed, putting a hand on his head and smoothing down his hair. Cal. Ellie. Things were alright.

"You came to my game!" Cal said happily, his voice muffled as he hugged me that hard. He lifted his face after a minute to look up at me, and I grinned down at him.

"I wouldn't miss it for anything." I told him honestly, pushing his hair out of his face fondly; it was getting too long. He needed a haircut. I'd tell Mum.

Except I wasn't talking to Mum.

He made a face as I pushed his hair out of his face, and said nothing, but he did stick his tongue out at me; I laughed, before sticking my tongue out back. "You grew so much…" I whined after a moment, as Cal released me; he straightened up proudly, his bright red jersey already streaked with dirt. Only the twins could be dirty before the game actually _started_. I was pleased to see he had a long-sleeved shirt on underneath the jersey, however; it was cold out. I'd have to give Nate props for that. "Okay, so tell me all about your football team." I prompted after a moment of inspection, and Cal leapt straight in.

"We're super." Cal said excitedly, bouncing a little, and I grinned down at him; I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen him this excited. "And—"

"Molly, kid, I'm sorry, I need your brother back…" His coach said, walking up to us. I nodded in understanding to the man, looking down at Cal and ruffling his hair.

"Kick butt out there, okay?" I asked him, and he nodded eagerly, running back to join his friends. I grinned after him, before I looked back up at my old coach. "Hey Mr. Causer." I said with a small smile, and he grinned at me.

"Nice to see you here." He said with a grin.

"Nice seeing you too." I said politely, but I meant it; Mr. Causer had always been so nice. And his kid was Nate's best friend. "How's Finn?"

"Great, great," He said dismissively. "I'd ask you how Nate was but I feel like I see that kide every day at my dinner table…" He chuckled, and I laughed softly, marking down in my brain to ask Nate about why he was steering clear of our house. Nate had never liked hanging out at home when I wasn't there, but this sounded like it might be more pointed. "So you're at boarding school, right? Anywhere I'd know?"

"Nah," I said, brushing the question off easily. I had the name of a fake boarding school in mind, one that Hogwarts allowed us to use, but I preferred not to lie to people. "How's the season going?"

"Good—your brother's our best mid-fielder." He said, and I straightened up proudly.

"Thanks, sir." I said with a grin. He turned to observe the beginnings of the game—when the refs got ready and the teams went in for the final cheer, making sure everyone was ready for the intensity that only seven-year-olds could bring to their soccer games—for a moment before he glanced back to me.

"You know your parents don't show up much to these things." He said in a passive voice; I knew he didn't mean it passively.

"They're busy." I murmured. Mr. Causer nodded a little. "Dad has a lot going with his job." I said after a second, glancing up at him. Mr. Causer glanced down at me, pressing his lips together.

"Your mum told me your dad lost his job, Molly." Mr. Causer told me quietly. I blinked. Dad had lost his job? I'd missed that. I let a guilty expression fade onto my face, though; Mr. Causer couldn't know that I didn't know dad had lost his job. My family was screwy enough without that kind of secret floating around.

"Oh." I said slowly, exhaling. "I didn't realize you and my mum were friends."

"Yeah." He murmured. There was a pause. "Has it been rough?"

"He's handling it." I said carefully. I was putting on a show here—another show, another lie. But this was what I did best. I brushed some snow off the sleeve of my sweater, before I glanced back up at him.

"That's good." Mr. Causer said, but I heard the doubt in his voice. I pushed my hair out of my face, looking up at him, and he pressed his lips together, looking down at me grimly. "Your mum told me that your dad had a particular issue with you." He admitted. I swallowed, staring up at Mr. Causer. How much had my mother told him? Why? "You know if you ever needed help, Molly, you could call me."

"How close exactly are you, with my mother?" I demanded, my eyes narrowed. Mr. Causer blushed, shaking his head.

"Nothing like that." He said quickly, but his voice caught on _that, _and I resisted the urge to shake him. I didn't believe him, even for a second. Refusing to think about the larger meaning of this, I pushed on. "Great." I muttered, shaking my head. I wasn't sure how much I was supposed to be reading into Mr. Causer's relationship with my mother, but I was not going to be putting up with it. "Mr. Causer, I think you're a nice man, so please listen to me when I tell you—my family is _not_ worth getting involved with. Not even if you and my mother—" I shuddered. "Not even if you care for my mum. My family is not worth the trouble." A sarcastic smile twisted my lips. "Have a nice day." I said, my voice snipping at him as I pulled away from the man. I turned my back on him and stalked towards the bleachers. I knew Nate would be there, and I saw Cormac and Ellie already over there; Cory was just saying hi to those of his friends who were here.

"Oy, Molly!" I heard Nate's voice call out behind me, and I turned, grinning at my little brother. Nate. Final piece of the Gale siblings puzzle was in, and all was well in the world. Nate crossed to me, and I flew at him, hugging him tightly; he hugged me back just as tightly. Nate and I handled Mum and Dad with a level of skill only afforded to us by the existence of the other. And separated, we started to lose control over the situation.

"I missed you, bro," I admitted as I pulled back, putting my hands on his shoulders and looking him over; he looked well, except—his hand was wrapped in an ace bandage. I felt my eyes narrow even as I dropped my hands from his shoulders to glare up at him—Nate had gotten taller, still. "What the hell happened to your hand?" I demanded, my voice low, and Nate sighed, nervously pulling down the sleeve of his sweatshirt over his hand.

"I told you I got in a fight." He muttered defensively, pulling back a little, and I glared at him; Nate knew better than this. He knew I wanted to know everything. And I got to know everything, because I was queen.

"You told me you weren't hurt." I retorted, harshly.

"I wasn't." Nate muttered. My hand shot out, grabbing his forearm and, despite my irritation, gently extended his arm. I held up his hand and pushed his sleeve up his arm a little; his hand was wrapped down his wrist. It had been sloppily wrapped, though; Nate had done it, not the school nurse or anything.

"Can you even move this hand?" I asked him. He frowned at me.

"I wrote you a letter with it." He retorted. I stared at him; he would give me the full story. "I just irritated the whole broken-knuckle thing from before." He admitted lowly, and I sighed, but released his arm as the ref blew his whistle, and I glanced towards the game. Cal's coach, Mr. Causer, was back on his sideline, cheering on the boys. I bit the inside of my cheek; I didn't want to talk about this so soon, not when I'd only just gotten here.

But this had to be addressed.

"I've got to talk to you." I said after a second, and Nate's face sobered, as we both straightened up. Nate and I looked like children, we acted like children. We sometimes pretended to be children. But at the end of the day, Nate and I were both adults, and we had to pull through and talk about the crap we didn't want to talk about and deal with the family that couldn't seem to hold it together.

I crossed my arms over my chest and led the way over to the bleachers; Nate followed me across the snowy astroturf, and up the steps. We went to the top of the six-level bleachers; no one was sitting up there, and we needed something like privacy.

We settled down, and I put my bag down beside me on the bleachers, crossing my legs comfortably. Nate leaned back, tucking his hands in his sweatshirt pockets as we watched Cal's game for a moment. Ellie was twirling around Cormac, chattering about something; Cory had a protective hand on top of her head, gently keeping her balanced. He was growing up, keeping an eye on the kids. God.

I had to make sure Dad never got to him.

I leaned forward, putting my elbows on my knees and clasping my hands. I would start at the beginning, I supposed. "So, Dad flipped out." I murmured, letting my words hang in the air, twisting our silence.

"When I got in the fight with Scott." Nate acknowledged.

"What happened?" I asked quietly. "I want a play-by-play."

"I came home that night—I had detention after school, nearly got suspended—the school had called home, it turned out." Nate rubbed his face. "Dad was already really mad and Mum was crying already—" I winced, wishing I'd been there, between Dad and Nate. Nothing was worse than Dad angry, and Mum crying. "I got maybe a foot inside the door, Cal and Ellie with me, and Dad just—slams his fist on the table in the foyer." I felt my stomach twist as I heard the echoes of anxiety in Nate's voice. "He broke one of the legs—it buckled—and then he broke a couple of vases and stuff." Nate looked at me. "I sent Ellie and Cal upstairs but they were crying, they were already scared out of their minds."

I stared at Nate. He needed a response. I could come up with a response—one that would make him feel more comfortable, one that made sure he knew I was handling this. I could handle this. I had to handle this. No one else would.

"You wrote that Mum helped slow him down?" I asked after a moment, my voice steely; Nate's expression relaxed.

"He'd cooled himself down about half way before she let me take Cal and Ellie to the diner for dinner." Nate murmured.

"I wish she'd stepped up sooner." I murmured lowly, and Nate chuckled grimly.

"Me too." He murmured. I exhaled shortly.

"Do you think he would have hurt you?" I asked after a second. Nate hesitated.

"I…" He began uncertainly. "I think he might have, accidentally. Not like he would have randomly punched me out or something. But in the two seconds I was stupid enough to talk back to him, I thought he might smack me just to get me to shut up." Nate shrugged. "It's not black and white." He murmured, and I felt a bubble of inappropriate, bitter laughter come up; I shoved it down, letting only the smallest of sad smirks curl my lips.

"Trust me, I _know_." I murmured, rubbing my forehead. I glanced at Nate. "You would tell me, right? If he hurt you?" I asked, and Nate nodded once, staring absently down at his open hands; he was leaning forward too, but he had his head down, and his hood up, making him look a little bit like a hoodlum.

"If he hurt me it wouldn't be safe for Cal and Ellie." He pointed out, his voice sounding oddly distant, and I closed my eyes, feeling the stab of pain through my heart. Nate didn't care so much about his own well-being as Cal's, as Ellie's.

I hadn't meant for him to become this person.

"Even if you think, somehow that the issue is only with you, than you have to tell me." I murmured, looking at him seriously; he glanced up at me.

"If that rule were reversed, it would already be unsafe." He pointed out lowly, glaring at me suddenly, and I felt the sting of his words even as I glared back instinctively.

"If you don't like my decisions, than say it." I murmured, my voice fast and accusatory; Nate didn't say anything, and I nodded once, letting the glare fade from my expression as his did. He leaned backwards, looking once more at Cal's game, and I looked down at my feet, in the sparkly flats that I'd bought at a Good Will shop.

One topic down, one to go.

I gave myself a bit of a break, letting the first goal of the game be scored, and watching Ellie—now playing tag with some other kid on the lawn—run around for a moment. "Mr. Causer came to talk to me." I said quietly, turning my head to look at him, so my entire head was sideways. I didn't want to talk about this, but Nate got the truth from me, the whole truth. We were allies.

Nate glanced at me, looking exhausted. I knew the feeling. "He mentioned that Mum had talked to him." My voice was serious and careful. I didn't know how much of this Nate already knew, or had assumed, or had half pretended to remember. After all, Mr. Causer was his best friend's dad. If Nate or Finn had had any ideas about this, they might have said something to each other. Or might not.

"About…" Nate didn't finish the sentence, but I knew he meant _Dad_, and I nodded.

"Mom and Mr. Causer are friends, I guess." I said with a shrug, then paused, staring at Nate. "Dad lost his job, apparently." Nate said nothing, but I'd known he wouldn't; Nate did short-term, and I handled big picture. And short term, Dad being jobless was bad, but not a disaster. Long-term, however, I had to figure out how that figured out into all of this. "And he mentioned knowing something about Dad hating me—" I fell silent, letting Nate process what I was saying. "How much does he know?" I asked softly, searching his expression. Nate's clear gray eyes had widened almost imperceptibly; his lips made an angry line. He hadn't known.

"He's never said any of this to me." Nate said tightly.

"Are he and mum—" I didn't finish the sentence, but Nate's face turned red, his eyes narrowing angrily. I stared at Nate. He hadn't always been short-tempered, but recently, what with hushing up the problems at home and him being alone at home—it was hard.

Nate stood up, and my hand shot out immediately, grabbing his sleeve as I rose to my feet quickly; Nate twisted to get away, but I held on.

"Nathaniel Isaac Gale, so help me God, if you go yell at Mr. Causer, I will kill you myself." I hissed. "Cormac is here and Cal and Ellie are here and I think they need someone to be adult." I was glaring firmly at him. "We don't even know what's going there."

"Mum would never tell anyone what had happened with Dad unless—"

"Unless she thought he could help." I interjected. It was a lie, I knew. I thought Mum was crossing lines with Mr. Causer too.

But Nate had to live with Mum, had to see Mr. Causer. I could deal with the truth of this far away, in a castle that no one gave a second thought to. Nate had to see these people every day. He needed a different version of the truth than I needed.

Nate stood stalk still, stiff as hell, and I kept a firm hold on his sleeve. I would use magic to trip him if necessary. I was not going to let him do this.

"I hate this." Nate said after a moment, the anguish in his voice audible. "I hate that we have to be the adults, since Mum is too busy ignoring what's happening and Dad is the problem—"

"It's not fair." I granted. Nate exhaled slowly, looking down at me finally. "It's not fair, but Natey, it's not changing for a while." I swallowed. "You have to sign on for this game. I'll figure out something to do, but you have to be willing to play ball."

Nate sat down, stiffly, and I released his arm, letting my own arms drop to my side, as I looked down at the field, where Mr. Causer was standing. This man was just another problem, another piece of the puzzle.

Because my family needed to get more complex.

* * *

**A/N**: I got eighteen reviews on this chapter.

Eighteen.

That is a WHOLE BUNCH. You guys are the best, ever, for doing that. I love reviews. And I especially like lots of reviews; they make me write faster, despite looming History Project deadlines and Chemistry Tests and Potential Knee Surgeries.

Thank you, lovely reviewers!

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	18. Pretty Girl Rock

Pretty Girl Rock

_Pretty as a picture__  
__Sweeter than a swisher__  
__Mad cause I'm cuter than the girl that's witcha__  
__I don't gotta talk about it baby you can see it__  
__But if you want I'll be happy to repeat it__…  
__Boys wanna marry looking at my derri-  
__erre, you can stare but if you touch it Imma bury._

—Keri Hilson

"Try something on." Rose said to me with a pleading grin, a week after the soccer game. We were hiding from the snow in a clothing shop in Hogsmeade, while the rest of our grade hid inside the castle; although Hogsmeade was open today, very few kids had crept from the warm castle to dart through the thick snow. Rose and I had almost stayed inside, but to us, the threat wasn't the snow, but the paparazzi. It wasn't like there was a mob, but a photographer or two lurked around every corner, and I was tired of headlines about Albus and me.

In the week since the soccer game, I'd not told anyone the new developments in my family. Nate and I had agreed that Cormac didn't need to know that Mum was probably cheating on Dad, and Nate was still doing research on Dad's lack of a job. He had told me, in his most recent letter, however, that Mum and Dad had had an argument about money, which leant itself to that theory. In the meantime, however, I was trying to figure out a plan for Cormac and me.

I'd decided not to send him home.

I hadn't even told Nate that. But I couldn't do it. I didn't trust Dad not to freak out, I didn't even trust Dad not to freak out on the kids anymore. I was going to bring myself to meet with Mum over break—I needed to talk to her. Pretend she was a grownup. I needed an ally in this fight, and I was relying too heavily on Nate already.

"I don't want to." I muttered crossly, looking around the store uncomfortably; Rose laughed in a way that made it clear that it didn't matter. "Can't we go meet the boys for food now?" I tried, looking around for something specific to object to; I caught sight of a clock. "We were supposed to meet up with them ten minutes ago." I pointed out, rounding on her: finally something to argue with.

"No! You're buying a dress for the holiday thing." Rose repeated firmly, grabbing my shoulders, turning me around, and pushing me towards some clothing. "You need something to wear. I have my dress. You need one, now."

"I don't _want_ a dress," I whined, feeling distinctly childish as she released me and snorted in laughter, confirming that thought. She wandered towards the racks, having seen something wearable, apparently. I glanced at the window of the store; the snow was so thick that I could barely see outside. I hated this weather. And it made running away not so much of an option (how far, exactly, would I get in the snow? Two feet?). I wandered tiredly over to the rack to the right of Rosie, going through the dresses. I picked through a few before I caught sight of a price tag; it literally injected panic into my veins. "These are so expensive…" I said tightly, pulling back a little.

"My mum has insisted via several semi-obnoxious letters that we are buying you your dress. So don't worry about it." Rose said. She didn't look at me, just continued looking for dresses, stiffened, my gaze focused on the rack in front of me. The colors of the dresses swam in front of me.

"Your mum wants to buy me my dress for the holiday dance?" I asked, my voice emotionless; Rose sighed softly beside me.

"Molly," She tried, but I stopped her.

"No." My voice was flat and useless. I wasn't arguing, I was simply stating a fact.

"Not a voting thing." Rose said in a sing-song voice, and I smothered the urge to kill her. Rose didn't even take me seriously, despite the fact that all I wanted to do was shake her.

"Rose." I snapped. "Absolutely not." I insisted as Rose went back to looking for dresses.

"This is nice…" Rose murmured to herself as she pulled a dress of the rack, completely ignoring me.

"Rose Weasley—"

"I like this too!" She exclaimed, pulling a black dress off the rack that didn't completely offend my sense of modesty. "This is such a good store…"

"_Stop." _I hissed. Rose winced, looking towards me angrily. "You're ignoring me." I snapped at her; Rose glanced wearily up at me, seemingly recognizing that I'd lost my temper. "I am not a stupid charity." Rose winced, but I continued, my eyes narrowed on my best friend. "I'm not even currently acknowledging your mother's right to be my legal guardian." I pointed out. "According to muggle laws, I'm still in Mum and Dad's custody. So no way in hell am I getting some dress for some dance on your mum's dime."

"Recognized guardianship or not," Rose said firmly, ignoring me, "Mum took custody of you in August and she takes that seriously." Rose glanced at me to make sure I wasn't seething, and then looked unrelieved when I glared pointedly at her. Regardless of my irritation, she continued. "The Weasley family is sponsoring your dress, like it or not." She grabbed one last dress, then brandished the alarmingly large pile of satin, taffeta, and lace at me; I frowned at it. Why was Rose always handing me piles of clothing? "Try these on, I'll find shoes."

"I am not a doll for you to dress up." I said irritatedly, glaring resentfully at the dresses. I wanted to continued, but Rose cut me off.

"Take them!" She urged, shoving them into my hands. I couldn't let them drop to the floor, so I took them angrily, glaring at her all the while. "Good, now you've left me with time to find shoes…" She said delightedly, and I groaned.

"I hate you." I hissed at her.

"Love you, too." She said cheerfully.

"Oh, you're making Molly shop—I told you it was Rose's fault they were late." Albus said easily as he and Fred threw open the door to the dress shop. The woman behind the counter threw them an irritated look as wind and snow blew in; both boys darted inside, closing the door behind them. Al pulled his red-and-orange Gryffindor hat off his head, brushing the snow off his shoulders as Fred unzipped his jacket and shook his head to get rid of the snow in his hair. "You owe me a butterbeer."

"No, _I_ told you that." Fred corrected. "You owe _me_ a butterbeer."

"How about you buy me one and I'll buy you one." Albus decided. I frowned a little. That didn't make so much sense…

"Doesn't that defeat the purpose?" Rose asked curiously, and I nodded at her; a worthwhile point.

"No." The boys chorused together, and I blinked, then laughed softly, rolling my eyes at the boys. Both of them grinned at me, and I smiled lazily at them over the pile of dresses in my arms.

"Molly, go try on the dresses, I'll entertain the children." Rose said, giving me a shove towards the dressing rooms. I stumbled, stopped, turned and glared. Rose smiled at me. "I'm not leaving until you try those on, so…" I glared at Rose, but I knew she meant it.

"Fuck you." I grumbled as I turned and marched into the dressing room, dumping the dresses on the chair and closing the curtain behind me.

"You're so pleasant." Albus said cheerfully from somewhere behind the curtain; I snorted in laughter.

"You're a brat." I told him, carefully taking off my clothes and folding them. I'd torn one of my shirts earlier this week by accident, and then come to the frightening conclusion that I didn't know where to get money to buy more shirts, should I kill the rest of them. I was taking incredible care of my clothing until I figured out what I was doing about money.

I stepped out of my jeans and folded them as well, putting them on top of my shirt before I picked up the first dress, a strapless, floor-length (the holiday dance was formal enough that I could wear floor-length, or a short dress), shimmery silver thing that looked too sophisticated for me. I stepped into it anyway, pulling it up and looking at myself in the mirror as I held it up with my hands. It was nice, made me look skinny… but I couldn't zip it up in the back.

I pulled the curtain back with one hand, using the other to press to the top of my dress, making sure it stayed up. Fred and Al and Rose looked up. "I need someone to zip me up." I said firmly.

"I like it already." Rose started, grinning at me.

"I don't know…" I said uncertainly, stepping out from behind the curtain; Albus raised his eyebrows, and my gaze lingered on him—what did _that_ mean—before I glanced at Rose. "Someone zip me up." I ordered.

"Zip her up," Rose ordered Albus dismissively. Whenever she managed to get the four of us in a shop altogether, Rose was queen. It only lasted in the confines of the store, but Rose abused that power like a regular dictator.

"Uh—" Al said uncomfortably, coughing a little. Fred snorted in laughter, and Albus shot him a lethal look before he took a couple of hesitant steps towards me. I lifted my hair, turning around, and Al's fingers fumbled with the zipper for a moment—I bit back the desire to laugh at him—and his fingers brushed my lower back for a moment before he got the hang of it, and zipped me up. I felt a blush crawl up my neck, but I ignored it.

I turned around, looking down at myself. The thing I disliked most about the dress was the slit up the side to my—all the way up to the top of my thigh, almost my hip. Nope. I glanced at the boys; Fred was grinning, and Al just looked uncomfortable. Had I ever seen him look uncomfortable before? I didn't think so. "What's up?" I asked, flashing him a grin and taking a step towards him, taking a guess at what he was so uncomfortable with. Albus glared pointedly at me as I stepped closer to him, and I realized there was a slit up the side of the dress to the thigh; I would not be buying this.

"Rosie, what is this?" I demanded irritatedly, stopping where I stood and reaching down to touch the slit up to my hip; you could see the side of my underwear, and I covered it with my hand. "Do you have a—_slutty_ _radar_ for dresses or something?" I demanded, turning to her; she laughed. Rose could be obnoxious almost all the time, but she always laughed it off when I called her on it. I rolled my eyes, turning on my heel.

"I just want you to look nice…" Rose said easily as I stalked back into the dressing room.

"For whom exactly?" I demanded as I shut the curtain behind me firmly, and reached behind me, before I realized I'd need someone to unzip it. I exhaled irritatedly, glaring at the wall for a moment, before I tore open the curtain. "I don't even have a date." I glanced at Albus. "Unzip me?" I asked him, turning and lifting my hair. He stepped forward behind me, his fingers awkwardly struggling with the zipper. I smirked a little. The boy was a little ridiculous. And I loved messing with him.

"I do." Rose said excitedly, and Albus, Fred and I all chuckled a little. Sometimes I wondered if Rose was actually a six-year-old.

"Who asked you?" I asked, smiling a little at her as Al got the zipper down about two inches, and then it got stuck on the cloth; he cursed. I sniggered. "You okay back there?" I asked, looking back at him. He shot me a lethal look, his face scarlet, and I felt a laugh bubble out of me; he grinned, a little embarrassedly. For a boy that I considered to be almost as man-whorish as Fred, Albus's face was mighty red for having just seen my back. He'd seen me in a bikini before—granted, we had been twelve or so—but this was not the first time he'd seen skin.

"Rory." Rose said cheerfully, and Al's gaze flashed to Rose as I turned slowly to look at her. She had turned to browse the racks busily, ignoring us. Fred glanced sharply at me, and my gaze flicked to him for half a second from the turned back of my best friend; we were thinking the same thing. My ex-boyfriend had asked my best friend to the dance. And not just my best friend—Rose. Rose was—prettier than me, taller than me. She was the hardest-to-get. There were really only two routes to dating Rose. Either she chose you, and you were powerless to stop her, or the boy went through me to get to her.

"Rory asked you to the dance." I said slowly, trying to process the information lowly. I was already filing it away in my brain, something to worry about later, twelve-millionth on my list of shitty things to happen recently. Even this, sucky as it was, didn't even rank.

Rose continued, though, destroying my façade of fineness with every word she spoke. "He said," She began, her voice a little too high, "that he wanted to ask me to the Halloween dance too," She fidgeted with the clothes uselessly, busily, until it became completely clear that she was faking business, faking okayness, because she didn't want to face me as she said all of this. Coward. "But he was too shy!" She stopped fidgeting for a moment. "That's cute, right?" Her voice was incredibly nervous. I swallowed. That wasn't cute. That was completely invalidating Rory's and my relationship.

"The Halloween dance?" I repeated, my voice flat. "That was in October." I stared at Rose, my brain dragging itself in a direction I didn't like; I'd dated Rory until the week before the dance. But he'd wanted to ask Rose anyway. Rory Corner had dated me to get to Rose.

Rory Corner had _dated me_ to get to _Rose_.

This had happened before. Not with official boyfriends, because the only one before Rory was Mikey, and Mikey hadn't dated Rose (yet) because she was a hot mess and he was the calmest person I'd ever met. But boys had asked me to dances so they got to talk to Rose, got to dance with Rose. As recently as fourth year, that had happened. And it sucked when it did. But Rory… I'd thought he liked me. I'd liked him. I didn't anymore, but I _had_.

"He dated _me_," I said, my voice steely, and Al's hand grazed my upper arm in an attempt to comfort me, "to date _you_," I looked at Rose, who still had her back to me, "because he liked _you_, not _me_." I said in a low voice. Rose didn't move. "Fuck, Rose, turn around." I snapped at her after a moment, and she turned around, standing stiffly, her expression fearful. She was just as frightened of this revelation as I was.

"I don't…" She said uncertainly.

"We were dating until a week before the Halloween dance at which point I dumped his ass." I said icily, suddenly stiff. "He wanted to take you to the Halloween dance." Rose stared at me. The boys were staring at us, but I didn't care about that at all. Now this was just embarrassing. Now, I wanted this to stop.

"No." She said, but I heard the uncertainty in her voice. I shook my head tightly. "No, Molly—"

"It's fine. It's this, again." I said tightly, shaking my head. "I was stupid—I should have seen this. I mean, he's a prefect. And a sixth year. And not completely unattractive." Rory was actually kind of beautiful, but between his general obnoxiousness and his obvious new status as a complete and total asshole, I wasn't giving him that. "I should have seen this." I repeated.

"No, stop—" Fred said, trying to stop me from going down that road; I was having no part of his logic, or him. I wasn't interested in lies or comfort or anything—I had to know the truth, always, every time.

"Rory dated me to get Rose." I said angrily to him. "I get it."

"Molly, no," Al's voice was slow and honest, but I still didn't like where he was going, because I _knew _what had happened, and it sucked, but I was a grownup. I could handle it. "You know I'm not a big fan of Rory. I saw him be an asshole and you treated him just the way you deserved. But…" Albus smiled a little at me, but I didn't say or do anything in response. Al continued after a moment, bravely. "But he was pretty possessive of you. He wanted me as far from you as possible. Boys using girls don't do that." I swallowed, but said nothing to Albus; I appreciated the thought, I appreciated the facts, but this had happened before and I was recognizing the same patterns.

"Rory used me to get close to Rose. It's fine." I said angrily; Albus raised his eyebrows—it clearly wasn't fine—but I just shook my head once more, turning my back on Albus again. I didn't need people to water down the truth. I just wished that the truth didn't suck quite so badly. I realized my throat was burning, a bad sign, so I swallowed hard, looking back at Albus. "Unzip me the rest of the way." I ordered lowly. Al hesitated.

"Molly—"

"Albus." I cut him off, my voice a little hoarse. He nodded after a second, and I pressed a hand to the top of my dress, turning to face forward again as I felt his hands float over my back and work at the zipper he was still so bad at.

"You know he's an idiot," Albus said softly to me, his voice a little muffled; he was behind me, and his head was down, concentrating on the zipper. I felt the corners of my mouth turn down but I froze them and wiped all emotion from my expression. I wasn't giving into his sympathy. I wasn't that weak. "And you're not the girl people use to get to other girls, Molls. Trust me." He unzipped me farther down, and I glanced back at him against my better judgment.

"What does that mean?" I asked him, a little accusatorily.

"Molly," Albus said, his voice clearly exhausted, but I felt a surge of pleasure; I loved the way my name sounded when he said it. "It means that the reason I hate Rory so much, the reason that I can't stand to see him near you, is because he is the only other person in this school smart enough to realize that you're kind of absurdly amazing." This time there was no stopping the blush as the words washed over me; it clawed up my face, turning my cheeks and neck red. _The only other person in this school smart enough to realize that you're kind of absurdly amazing_. Rory was the other person, Albus was the first person. Albus thought I was _kind of absurdly amazing_. That made my stomach hurt, in an odd kind of pleasant way.

I glanced at Fred, needing a rescue as Albus finished my zipper, so my back was exposed, my hand holding up my dress. I turned to face him, standing beside Albus as I looked pointedly at the boy. "I don't know whether or not Al is right," Fred admitted, flashing me a smile, and I nearly grinned at him, I was so pleased to be saved, "but I'd be pleased to..._accidentally_," Fred's grin turned mischevious, "let the bludger pass me and hit him…"

"I'm a big girl, Frederick." I told him with a half-hearted smile. "I can take care of myself."

"We liked to crush people who hurt our Mollilicious." Albus said, sliding his arm around my waist; I leaned against him for a second, letting myself relax. I trusted Albus enough to lean against him, to let him hold me up, and that scared me. I straightened up before I had a chance to overthink that, looking up at the boy.

"Don't call me that," I said with a smile, backing up a step, then another, before I turned and slipped back into the changing room. I closed the curtain and leaned back against the wall, looking at the wall opposite me.

I slipped off the silvery dress, pulling on one of the two left; a short shimmery white dress that was skin-tight. It had pinkish tints to parts of the shimmer. Normally I wouldn't have even considered this dress—too short. But it looked oddly nice. I hesitated, before I grabbed it, pulling it on over my head. I chewed on my lip, looking down at myself. This was a little short. A little tight. But it was also kind of amazing. I could already tell I looked good in it—there was a kind of magical quality to dresses that you looked properly brilliant in, you suddenly felt like you could do anything.

"Pass me a pair of high heels." I ordered through the curtain.

"Why?" Fred asked.

"Because I like this dress and I wanna make sure it looks good when I wear shoes—Rosie, pick some shoes?" I said distractedly, sticking my arm out only enough to get potential shoes being passed.

"Uh, Molls." Albus said uncertainly. "Rosie left. I think? She's not here anymore." I frowned, ignoring the fact that I wanted shoes before I showed the boys the outfit as I stepped into the real store from my dressing room. A quick scan of the small store told me what I already knew.

Rose was gone.

I pressed my lips together; Rose had ditched us. After dropping the Rory bomb on me. What the hell?

Behind me, though, the boys were taking Rose being gone in stride. Fred whistled long and low, and Albus had an unholy grin on his face as I turned to the boys, taking in their reactions. "Somebody looks _purdy_…" Fred dragged out the word, pleased as punch.

"Shut up." I muttered, advancing towards Fred and smacking his arm. "Did you see Rose leave?" Fred shrugged; he knew Rose could take care of herself. I agreed, but it was still odd that she'd left.

"Ignore Rosie." Fred grinned at me. "Buy the dress. Thief the dress, if you must—" The woman at the cashier looked up sharply, and he grinned, "Jokes, jokes." She didn't look down. "Joking." He waited until she rolled her eyes and looked back down at her magazine, "if I didn't have the utmost respect for you," Fred began, his eyes focusing on my face pointedly; I got the idea he was trying his hardest not to look at the rest of me, "and a very real fear that Albus would jump me with a knife," I felt laughter bubble up, my smile growing, "you would _totally_ be leaving the list of sad and lonely people with whom I have not hooked up." Fred said with a grin. I gagged, but the smile returned in a heartbeat.

"Like I'd lower my standards for your sorry ass." I scoffed. "And I suppose that I'm supposed to translate that into the dress is worth purchasing." I demanded frankly. Fred laughed, and I glanced at Albus. He was smirking, and I felt a small grin grace my own lips. "Al?" I asked after a moment, when he didn't immediately volunteer his own opinion. I shifted nervously. "Tell me what you think before I slap you." I said finally, my voice tight; I didn't like needing validation, but I wasn't good at clothes shopping, and Rose wasn't here. His gaze met mine finally, his eyes stormy, and I felt my own smile fad a little with the intensity of his gaze. It was only these moments—few and far between, but mind-blowing when they occurred—that made me question what Albus and I were. Every other time, we were just friends. But he'd look at me and his face would be different, his eyes would be darker and more frustrated. And I'd wonder if Albus and I were always going to be just friends.

I pulled away after a moment of silence, looking instead towards the mirror and smoothing down the dress, inspecting my appearance. Al came up beside me after a moment. "You look pretty goddamned gorgeous." He told me quietly.

"Don't curse." I murmured back, glancing up at him with a small, ironic smile, and Albus laughed lowly, slipping his arm around my waist and pulling me around and against him. I blinked at the sudden movement, looking up at Albus. His eyes were too intense on mine, and I wanted to look away but I also didn't, because Albus was the only functioning person in my life right now and I loved that about him. "What are we doing?" I murmured to him, the words leaving my lips before I could think about the question.

Albus just shook his head slowly, once. And when he spoke, his voice was slow and low, his face inches from mine.

"I have no fucking idea."

* * *

Two days later, I left History of Magic, my head down as I exited the classroom and frowned at the book in my hands. I had to re-do all the readings that Binns' taught us; I couldn't absorb anything I heard him say. But I hadn't had the time (or really the patience) to do that, recently. Which had resulted in my general irritation when I hadn't had a clue what the homework was on, today.

But I even looking down at the book, I was far too distracted to focus. Since Rose had told me that Rory had asked her to the dance, she'd gone on like she hadn't said anything, and I'd been trying not to dwell on it. It wasn't that I was somehow still dwelling on Rory—it was just, this sucked. And making it worse, Rose wasn't willing to talk about it. I wasn't sure why, either—Rose was usually very much up for talking about issues. I was the one who didn't want to confront things. But Rose obviously didn't want to and she let me get away with not talking about a lot. The one time she apparently didn't want to talk about it, I wanted to let her do that.

I bumped into someone halfway down the hallway, and then I backed up, frowning up immediately. I hated bumping into people. That made me angry. What idiot was standing in my way? I glanced up.

Rory Corner was standing in front of me. The first thing I noted was that his eyes were bloodshot; he hadn't slept. It was only when he turned his head deliberately that I noticed the bruise. Rory had a light green and brown bruise on his jaw that climbed down his neck in almost a perfect circle—it looked sort of like—Holy _shit_. That was a bludger. A bludger had hit Rory Corner's face in practice—the boys had had practice that morning. Fred had let a bludger past to smack Rory in the head and neck—

"Holy crap." I said aloud without meaning too, and Rory's head snapped back around to look at me seriously, then he winced, pressing his hand to his neck. "Fred—"

"Yeah. Fred." Rory said shortly. I stared at the bruise; it was fresh, only a couple of hours old. It'd get darker as it developed. "Molly, what'd you tell them?" He demanded lowly.

"Nothing." I muttered, resenting the accusation. "Rosie told us you asked her to the Holiday dance." Rory stared at me, his gaze frank. I glared at him for a moment before I went on. "You told her that you wanted to ask her to the Halloween dance. Even though _we,_" I gestured from me to him and back again, "were still dating."

"What?" Rory asked, looking caught between confused and pissed off.

"You used me to get closer to Rose." I hissed. Rory gaped at me.

"I did _not_—Jesus, you and Potter and Weasley are a mess when you're trying to understand what I'm saying." Rory said angrily. I glared at him, shoving my book in my bag and crossing my arms across my chest. "_She _asked me to the dance." Rory hissed at me; I'd never seen him so angry, not even when we'd had the fight where I broke up with him.

"You're calling her a liar?" I demanded.

"_I have no idea!_" Rory exploded, and I raised my eyebrows, but otherwise didn't react. _"I have no idea whether Rose lied or she misunderstood something I said or you misunderstood something you said."_ Rory fell silent, his breathing heavy as he calmed himself down, and I narrowed my eyes. "And then Potter and Weasley, children that they are, took it too far trying to get revenge or some such shit when absolutely none was necessary." He stared at me. "You _know_ me, Molly, even if you don't like me." Rory said lowly. "I wouldn't _do _that—_for the love of Merlin_." He shook his head. "You think I'd use you to get close to Rose?" Rory was trying to make me feel guilty. Too bad that I was the girl without emotions.

"Sucks to hear that people you care about don't really know you, doesn't it?" I responded, smirking a little. Rory stared at me silently, and I swallowed the guilt rising in my throat. I hated being mean to Rory. He wouldn't be mean back—just angry, just defensive, never mean. But the fact of it was, that was why we hadn't worked. He was too nice, too eager to please. I was far too preoccupied with every single disaster in my life to give a shit about making everyone around me "comfortable" with what I was doing.

But while he was busy being too nice, he'd proved something. Nice boys don't do stuff like use girls to get to their best friends. And I'd just accused him of that. Stupid, Molly. I didn't have to have feelings for Rory to recognize that he would no more use me than he would kill a puppy.

But Rose had to have lied, then. There was no way to misunderstand what she'd said.

"I'll call off the boys," I heard myself saying to Rory, trying to stop myself before I had to think about these two conflicting truths. "Hope your jaw feels better." I pushed past him, and he let me go. I swallowed against the confusion swirling in my brain as I turned down the next hallway. Rose didn't lie to me—not on big stuff. She'd tell me she'd done her homework when she hadn't to get me off her back, but other than that, nothing. She wouldn't lie to her best friend. But Rory wouldn't lie. Rory too being a good kid seriously—he'd told me that on the Hogwarts Express, and I believed that.

They couldn't both be telling the truth, though.

"Oy, Frederick!" I called across the Great Hall as I spotted Fred at dinner that evening. Fred was sitting with Liam, both the boys in their usual clothes, having long since ditched their robes. Albus would have been with him, but he'd gotten detention for some prank he'd played on a Slytherin boy the year above us with his brother. He had detention every day for the next week. "Fred—what the _hell_?" I demanded, coming up behind him; he glanced up at me, before looking across to Liam, his eyebrows raised.

"You got in trouble with Mummy." Liam snickered as I walked up, and I narrowed my eyes at him; he fell silent. I slipped into the seat beside Fred, reaching over and slapping the back of his head; Fred cursed, pressing a ginger hand to the back of his head.

"You let a bludger hit Rory _in the head_." I hissed at him. "You could have _broken his neck_. He could be _dead_." Fred just rubbed the back of his head, shooting me a resentful glare. Why wasn't he getting how serious this was? "FREDERICK!"

"Yes, Miss Molly the violent?" Fred finally responded.

"You _let a bludger hit Rory_ because you were mad at him on my behalf." I smacked Fred's arm again. "You _can't do that_."

"Did I do that?" Fred asked, as Liam burst into a new round of laughter. "I don't _think _I did that." I kicked him under the table, and he winced, his hand flying to his shin as he made a sound like a wounded animal. I grinned wolfishly; this is what I did best. I could take people down with my hands tied behind my back. It just bothered me that Fred had done this because of me. Fred was not particularly attached to me, or I hadn't thought so, anyway. But he'd done this, now.

"What were you even thinking? That I wouldn't hear about it?" I demanded.

"That was the best possible situation, yes," Fred agreed. I glared at him.

"Wrong answer," Liam said across the table as I narrowed my eyes at Fred.

"For once in his slightly ridiculous life, Liam is right." I hissed at Fred. "You hurt him." Fred glanced at me, studying me for a moment as his eyes, a lighter blue than my own.

"Do you still—" He asked after a second, his voice quick. He looked so appalled by this idea that he didn't want to finish the sentence, but when I obviously didn't catch on, he went on. "Molly Sienna Gale, for the love of all that is magical, please tell me you don't still _like_ that boy—"

"No!" I snapped, rolling my eyes; Fred's entire being seemed to relax. I frowned at him. "How stupid do you think I am?" I demanded. "_I _dumped _him._" Fred nodded, seemingly reassured.

"What did Rory do?" Liam asked across the table; I frowned at him.

"None of your business." I snapped, and Fred, beside me, sighed.

"Rory dated Molly to get closer to Rose." Fred said lowly, and I felt a hasty, embarrassed blush heat my cheeks as Liam glanced at me, his eyes darkening. "So obviously Albus and I are giving him hell." Fred glanced at me. "Even if Miss Stoic over here refuses to acknowledge that she secretly wants to destroy him." He snorted.

"You can't do stuff like let bludgers hit Rory." I said firmly. "I don't care what Albus says to you—and yeah, I'm not an idiot," I muttered as Fred looked up at me, "I know he's the one demanding Rory's head. I don't care, though—you'll screw up your Quidditch team and Albus is going to get it through his head, about how he cares about me, or some such shit—" I almost told Fred, then, about what Rory had said. About how Rory had told me that Rose was the liar, Rose had misunderstood—but I knew Rose hadn't misunderstood, and I knew her well-enough to know she wouldn't lie. Rose didn't lie to me. I didn't even want to call her trust into question, because there was nothing to question.

"_Cold_," Liam muttered under his breath, I shot him a look.

"Fuck off, Fitzroy, I'm not in the mood." I growled.

"Albus does 'care about you, or some such shit'." Fred quoted beside me, smiling a little oddly at me; I would have thought it was a little condescending, if Fred would ever have dared to be condescending to me. He knew better though. Didn't he? "You're his best friend, aside from yours truly." He didn't continue, but the sentence was clipped, edited down from its original form, and I looked away from Fred. I hated these talks: Fred felt like he had to reinforce on me how seriously Albus took everything I did. But I knew.

"Stop."

"Alright, switching topics deftly," Liam said across the table, and I rolled my eyes: did Liam know what 'subtle' meant? I didn't think so. "I asked Hayley Sparks to the Holiday Dance." He told us, and I raised my eyebrows. Hayley Sparks was Slytherin, so usually I couldn't waste my time with her—or anyone in her dorm—but she stayed quiet and out of my way. I liked that, at least.

"She's decent." I nodded, then felt a small grin work its way onto my face as I glanced up at Fred, "and correct me if I'm wrong, but she has thus far been immune to your charms, Frederick."

"Indeed she has." Fred acknowledged, nodding once. "She is on the ever-shortening list of girls who are able to." Fred glanced down at me, his gaze curious. "Anyone ask you yet?" He asked, and I shook my head once; dating was a sensitive topic, now, since stupid Rory. "I asked Maia—"

"You did _what_?" I demanded, glaring at Frederick and completely forgetting about Rory. Maia was the worst. And Fred was…well, Fred was the worst too, but at least he was smart, and Maia absolutely wasn't.

"Why doesn't my date pass Molly Gale approval?" Fred demanded. I fixed him with a look; Fred had to know everything I hated about Maia. He took my knowing look in stride, however, and sighed dramatically. "Ah, but the lovely lady is so pretty—"

"Maia doesn't have a brain in her head—" I retorted scathingly.

"She does have such nice legs, though—"

"Oh, don't torture me with that information I so don't want—"

"Munchkin Alert." Liam said, and I stopped protesting as I glanced first at him, then twisted to look at the isle behind me; Cormac was coming up. Munchkin Alert had spread; we used it for Lily, for Cormac, for Hugo.

I winced a little as I spotted my baby brother. I ran my hand through my hair, thinking while I did—I hadn't heard of any unclaimed pranks, and I knew Cormac was doing well now in at least Transfiguration, and I figured he wasn't stupid enough to fail anything. So what was this?

Cormac came up beside me nervously, his eyes flicking from me to Fred and back to me. "Hey, can I ask you something?" He asked, his hands in his pockets; he looked like a little kid.

"Sit." I ordered, patting the empty space beside me; he glanced nervously behind me at the boys. I twisted to glare at Fred and Liam: "idiots, move it." I growled.

"Since you asked so nicely…" Fred said happily, and he slid down a foot or so.

"I don't _want _to move…" Liam said grumpily, but Fred reached out and grabbed Liam's plate, quickly sliding it down the table. Liam followed his foot with a muttered curse, giving us a foot of privacy, scooting down the table a little as Cormac sat nervously. He chewed on his lip for a moment, and I turned my focus back to my baby brother in front of me. He didn't say anything to me. I frowned at him, feeling an inch of worry creep under my skin. "What's up, kiddo?" I asked gently, and he glanced up at me.

"Neela and Roger invited me to their house for break." He said, his voice low. I blinked; this was the big problem? "They live in London and they have this nice big house and I could stay in their guest bedroom and Roger's mum said you could visit on Christmas day, if that was a thing—"

"Oy, kid, relax." I said softly. Cormac wasn't in trouble, but I still felt an inch of panic in my lungs; Cormac didn't want to spend break with me. What eleven-year-old _did_ want to spend Christmas with their big sister in a hotel room? Not one I knew of. "Roger and Neela are…twins?" I tried. Cormac nodded. "Roger's in your dorm, right?"

"And Neela's in Ravenclaw." Cormac supplied.

"Alright." I blinked. What did normal people do, here? I had to think of something to do, because Cormac was looking increasingly distressed, and I didn't want to torture him. "I'd need to talk to their parents," I said slowly, thinking quickly; I didn't want to send him to any house, to any strangers. I didn't even want to send him home without me there. But I also knew that not everyone's family (in fact almost no one's family) was like mine. Cormac didn't need protecting from normal people. "If they check out," I said slowly, "then I need to talk it through with Nate, and we'll decide, so right now it's not a _no_—" Cormac grinned at me, and I smiled a little back at him; he didn't hesitate and hugged me tightly, and I sighed a little, letting my arms rest around him as I stared down at the table.

I wanted to tell him no, but I was just being weird. Maybe.

* * *

_Dear Nate,_

_ How's everything going at home? Remember, I'll see you the day I get back, I'll probably end up staying London but I can travel really fast, so I'll be there as often as you need me._

_ Cormac wants to stay with his friends Roger and Neela for break. They're twins, they have a nice house in London, and I'm about to write his parents to check that this is on the up-and-up. I'm not sure though. I want him to spend Christmas with family. But I'm in a hotel over break (or maybe at school) and I don't want to send him home…do you think that would be alright?_

_Love,_

_Molly_

* * *

_Molls—_

_Dad wants Cormac home. Frankly, I think it might cause more a thing if you don't send him home._

_Miss you,_

_Nate_

* * *

**A/N:**

This is two weeks late and for that I apologize sincerely. But that's a consequence of school becoming a monster that tried to eat me. But I got to spend time with the "functional" (in quotations because they are only functional in comparison to the other part of my family) family, and they're actually lovely. My cousin Teddy and I have had so much fun these past few days and my grandfather (on my mother's side) has been awesome.

Anyway, apologies, but I loved my family too much to ditch them to write this quickly :)

Thanks to my super magical fantastical reviewers:

FallenStar22

Hushpuppy22

Allen Pitt

SpencerReidFan89

wHaT's In A pEn-NaMe?

HGromanticsap

NotADreamNotYetANightmare

KaitlynEmmaRose

Pottercullen-4ever

Angel2u

Foesizzle13

McGonagall is my idol

Studygirl10

Tmbookworm

Molivline

Xxsockixxx

morgs

SiNgInG iN tHe RaIn


	19. Something Is Not Right With Me

Something is Not Right With Me

_Crash into the people who're sleeping late into the evening,  
Reach behind they can hardly find their spines…  
You said you did lack a cause, I try to feel about that,  
It was smoky but it died in your front yard.  
Something is not right with me,  
How was I supposed to know?  
Something is not right with me,  
I'm trying not to let it show.  
—Cold War Kids_

* * *

_Nate—_

_I can't just send him home._

_Molly_

* * *

_Molly—_

_Dad's going to flip a shit if you don't._

_Nate_

* * *

_Nate—_

_I can't prioritize either of you._

_Molly_

* * *

_Molly—_

_So essentially you're telling me that you won't decide. Great. Thanks._

_Nate_

* * *

_Nate—_

_It's not that simple. We'll discuss it more at the twins' Christmas pageant, I'm still coming._

_Molly_

* * *

_Molly—_

"_Not that simple" is an excuse lazy people make when they're too scared to make a decision. I didn't think you were like them._

_Nate_

* * *

"Molly…" Albus said sympathetically as I dropped Nate's letter onto the empty plate in front of me; I'd suddenly lost my appetite. In the last four days, Nate and I had been having a letter war—one that had turned ugly. The fact of it was, I was being obnoxious. I knew that. Natey needed a big sister, and I was being just as bad as the Weasleys, trying to idealize this situation away. I had to step up.

Albus and I were sitting at lunch on the Saturday the week before the holiday dance. We only had a week to go before we got to go home for break. _Home_, of course, being relative; for me, home was nowhere. But Albus was going home, as were Rose and Fred. And I was trying my hardest to keep my head down about where I was spending break. My teachers—especially Professor Longbottom—had been eying me worriedly, though, and a couple of kids had gotten awkward around me, especially the bleeding-heart Hufflepuff kids. Idiots wanted to help. All I wanted to do was shake them: I didn't want or need help. My screwed up family was _my_ screwed up family. Not anyone else's.

"Dad will flip on Nate if I don't send Cormac home," I said lowly, my eyes locked on the pitcher of pumpkin juice in front of me. I didn't want to look up at Albus, who was sitting beside me, because I couldn't stand to see the sympathy there. It made me want to give it up—every inch I grew closer to Albus and Fred made me want to stop this grand charade. But then I got a letter from Nate and I felt the floor torn out from under me again, every bit of comfort gone. It'd never really been there, though.

I took a deep breath, forcing me back to our current conversation. "But if I do, Cormac's going to get—" I fell silent. I _didn't_ know what would happen if I sent Cormac home. That was what was so scary. "But I've already said yes to Cormac spending break with Roger and Neela's family." I exhaled heavily. I shook my head once. "I have to be the one to tell Dad, which means I have to go home before next Friday, somehow—"

"What the hell kind of plan is that?" Albus demanded, bewildered.

"There isn't another option." I growled at him, my gaze flicking to him defensively despite my determination to not look at him. "I'm the big sister. I protect the kids. And if I send Cormac home, I can't be sure he'll be okay—and if I don't, if I let Nate tell Dad, _I know he will not be okay_." My voice dropped hoarsely. "I don't do that. No one falls through the cracks—not anymore."

"Oh, look who's having a really heated, intense conversation—I'm shocked." Fred said sarcastically as he sank down across from Albus and I. Fred had just woken up, I assumed, because when Al and I had come down to lunch, both he and Rose had still been asleep. "You guys _never_ do that. All light-hearted fun-time with you two."

"Fuck off." Albus murmured, glaring down at his plate sulkily.

"Someone's prickly." Fred noted, raising his eyebrows at his best friend, before he glanced at me. I just met his gaze evenly. "Anything I should know?"

"No." I growled out.

"Molly's fucking suicidal." Albus ground out.

"Drama queen." I hissed at him resentfully.

"_You want to tell your dad something that is too dangerous for anyone else to tell him, and I'm the absurd one?" _Albus's words were emphatic and loud, and a couple of kids around us turned to stare at us; in one move, I pulled my wand and stabbed Albus with it, the _silencio_ charm sweeping over him in a heartbeat.

"If you can't speak at a normal volume, than you don't get to speak at all." I told him lowly, turning back to my letter from Nate and my empty plate. Albus made some sort of dramatic gesture with his hands that I ignored; Fred, across the table, was watching him with passing interest. I folded up the letter and stuck it under my knife, grabbing an apple and taking a bite of it easily. I chewed and swallowed before I looked up at Fred. His eyes—light brown—were crinkled with laughter, but he kept a straight face.

"I have to admire your style, Miss Molly." Fred said with a small smile, gesturing to Albus. I raised my eyebrows, inviting Fred to go on. "Not many girls leave him speechless." He elaborated.

I made a little _hmm_ noise, taking a sip of my coffee; I'd snagged some from the front of the hall when Albus and I had sat down. I drank it black, not because I was a caffeine fiend, but because back home, morning was a rush of getting the kids breakfast and trying to drag Natey out of bed that milk and sugar were far too difficult to get my hands on. I'd gotten used to it, by now. "Who made the mistake of thinking I was most girls?" I asked, and Fred smirked. Beside me, Albus folded his arms on the table, and dropped his head onto them, seemingly too frustrated by Fred's and my conversation and his silence to keep arguing with us. I turned to him, smirking a little meanly. "Give up?" I asked. Albus nodded into his arms. I jabbed his thigh under the table with my wand, thinking of the reverse spell, and Albus sighed heavily, lifting his head enough to look at me irritatedly. His green eyes squinted up at me, his hair falling forward onto his forehead.

"I hate you." He said tiredly.

"Now, we both know that's not true." I said softly with a grin. I took one last swig of my coffee, feeling it burn down my throat before I pushed myself to my feet, stepping back over the bench. "I'll meet you all for dinner." I told them, starting away from the boys.

"Where are you going?" Albus asked. I turned on my heel, putting my hands on my hips in the middle of the pathway between the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables. I smiled a little oddly at Albus; he knew where I was going. He just didn't want me going there.

Unfortunately, what Albus wanted didn't actually factor, here.

"If I told you…" I shrugged, grinning a little, "Where would be the fun in that?"

And then I turned and started back down the hallway.

* * *

One half hour and a nervous agreement from Professor Longbottom later (I might have told him I was seeing another of my brother's soccer games), I was standing in front of my house, staring up at it, my heart pounding. The house was two stories, with pale blue clapboard, and small windows with shutters on the outside that had long since had their once-functioning metal hinges rust into dysfunction. Mum kept a garden, and while it wasn't meticulously kept, it looked sweet, in front of the house. There was a fence around the house that had been partially knocked down over the summer, when I'd tried, without success, to give Nate a driving lesson.

More importantly, however, the driveway on the right side of the house had my father's car in it. He was home.

I swallowed my desire to run, at this point, and forced myself up the front walk as I wrapped my arms around my cold self; I had left my jacket in my dormitory, and I hadn't wanted to go back to Gryffindor Tower to give Albus another chance to talk me out of coming here. I could do this. I just needed to say the words and then leave. Dad wouldn't flip on Nate, or Cormac then. Just me.

I steeled myself up the stairs at a jog, and then allowed myself a half moment of hesitation—a half moment of wild, half-formed, what-if thoughts about making all of this go away, letting Nate and Cal and Ellie fall into the foster care system that would probably serve them well if not together. The subsequent wave of guilt that came for even entertaining those thoughts forced my knuckles to rap against the door, three times, and then I left my hand drop to my side. I had to be all business. A top thing that might make my dad escalate was if I escalated this. I just had to convey the message.

The door opened and I stared at my dad. I felt my breath leave my lungs almost immediately. He looked exactly the same—a little over six feet, his height just enough to scare me, his face already shadowed by the beard growth since he'd last shaved. His eyes were already furious, within a second, but he said nothing, his hand on the door tightening immediately. I couldn't help but do anything but stare, though. I hadn't been sure when I would see my dad again—if I would see my dad again. And here we were.

"Molly." His voice was toneless, and it made my stomach hurt, but the anger on his face was enough to snap me into battle mode; I had a job, here.

"Cormac isn't coming home for break." I told him baldly. Dad's breath got heavier, and my heartbeat tripled. "I can't send him home to you. Not in good conscience."

"Your conscience wasn't particularly active when you signed him up for that school—" Dad snarled.

"I _didn't_ fucking sign him up for Hogwarts, Dad." I said angrily, glaring; I regretted it the moment I felt the word _Dad_ leave my tongue. I was homesick, suddenly, badly. Of course I was. Because I was a fucking mental case.

"You can't keep my kid from me." Dad said quickly. "I report you to the police. You'll go to jail for kidnapping."

"Cormac and I aren't even in your custody anymore." I growled; Dad's face turned red. "Remember the Weasleys? They have custody of us. And I'm not even letting Cormac spend break with them." I swallowed the flare of panic that threatened to smother me, and that made me stupid: "My friend's dad wanted to send you to jail—"

"_You little bitch—_" Dad hissed as his hand reached out to grab at me, and I leapt back, stumbling backwards down the steps in front of my house; I fell through the air in a flurry of panic, hitting the sidewalk hard, and I winced as my head hit the concrete hard, my bare elbows scraping the rough surface, and I heard a cracking sound. I winced, leaning my head back against the sidewalk and closing my eyes for a moment as my breath hitched; _ow_. I wasn't hurt at all—even my head didn't hurt half as badly as it had when Albus had blown up the potion in class—but scrapes still stung like a bitch.

Which, apparently, I was.

I opened my eyes and pushed myself up onto my elbows, wincing further as the rough surface grated against my scrapes. Dad didn't make a move from the top of the stairs, and I stared up at him for a moment, my breath hitching as I fought back the lump in my throat. This is what we'd come to. Dad standing at the top of the stairs while I bled on the ground.

I carefully sat up a little straighter, making sure nothing hurt too badly. I'd heard a cracking sound but I hadn't broken a bone; I knew that much. I pushed myself to my knees, then put my scraped palms to the ground and pushed myself cautiously to my feet. There was no resistance from the wand in my pocket—oh, no. No. I patted my wand to make sure, leaving tiny dots of blood on the skirt; I wondered if there was a spell to remove blood, somewhere in my brain.

I'd broken my wand.

"I just came to tell you that Cormac wouldn't come home." I said quietly, looking up at my father with more guts than I knew was strictly wise; without my wand, I was useless. "It doesn't matter what you do or what you say. I don't give a fuck. I'm not sending Cormac home to you."

"What the fuck do you think gives you that authority—"

"_You gave me this authority_." My voice was steps past worried; panic was long past, sheer desperate anger was all that was left. "_I didn't want this_." I hissed at him, glaring up at him, feeling my eyes burn with something that might be tears, were I the sort of person who cried. "But you _forced_ this on me the second you kicked me out, the second you hurt me." I stepped back from my father, even though he was still immobile at the top of the steps. "You screwed me up, but over my dead body will you touch a hair on Cormac's head, do you understand me?"

"I wouldn't hurt my children." Dad hissed at me.

"You hurt me." I said evenly.

"You're no longer my daughter." Dad's voice was cold, but I felt a wave of anger sweep me; I threw it back at him with the most hurtful thing I could think of.

"God, how I wish that were true." I hissed at him.

With that I turned my back on my father, walking away from him. I walked shakily down the path, turning onto the sidewalk and walking the whole three blocks in silence to the park that I took Ellie and Cal to over the summer. It was empty, it being the middle of the day. This was a working-class neighborhood, with everyone who was old enough either working or in college, their kids in day care or school. I sank down on a park bench, my head pounding, and looked down at myself; I was a mess. Blood was trickling towards my wrists, from the scrapes on my forearms. I needed to get patched up before I got back to Hogwarts; Albus would blow a fuse if I showed up at Hogwarts like this. And I knew this wasn't a bad thing, just a little bit of blood and a bad headache. I'd gotten worse injuries falling off my bike.

But without a wand, all I could do was patch myself up the muggle way. And I had no money to buy those things.

I did, however, have a little brother who went to school near here. Not that Nate went to school on Saturdays, but the fact of it was, the courtyard at Lerner Prep was one of the best places to hang out in this neighborhood. He spent a lot of time there.

I pushed myself carefully to my feet, keeping my arms carefully away from my body. So far, the only blood on me was on my jeans, and that was barely visible. I could look pretty alright until I got my hands on some gauze pads.

I started towards my brother school carefully, my head pounding as I took each step forward. It was only about 1:00; I could still make it to Nate's school in time for me to only interrupt his lunch, not one of his classes, though I wasn't averse to doing that. I didn't care if I had to argue his way out of his class. I needed someone with an allowance to buy me some Neosporin and gauze. That beat math class.

It took me fifteen minutes to reach Nate's school; normally it'd take me five, but my arms hurt and my head hurt and I was walking slowly. When I did, though, I was pleased to see the courtyard—where everyone ate lunch—full of kids my year, and the year below me. Nate would have lunch now, or at least Finn Causer, Nate's best friend, would, and he had enough sense in his head to go get Nate.

I made it maybe two steps onto the campus when I spotted Nate sitting on the brick wall around the courtyard, his arm around a girl's waist, Finn Causer sitting beside him. I swallowed, looking at him tiredly; Nate was happy, here. With his friends, his girlfriend; Nate was normal in a way I didn't think I would ever be. I never left the kids behind, really. I never _really_ stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop with my father. Nate obviously did, because he was spending his free time just hanging out, looking normal with friends and a girlfriend.

I hated to ruin that for Nate. But it had to be done.

I carefully approached him, holding my arms up cautiously; my arms were still bleeding, and they stung like hell. I was still fifteen feet away from Natey when he finally looked up, his gaze locking on mine in a heartbeat. He froze immediately, before his arm dropped from his girlfriend, and he jumped down off the wall without a word to his friends, and he jogged the space between us, staring at me with his eyes wide.

"I was in the neighborhood and I thought I'd say hi." I said sarcastically, my voice low as I lifted my arm properly; Nate grabbed my wrist, inspecting the cut on my arm.

"Holy hell, Molly, this is a lot of blood." Nate breathed as he looked at my arm, then his gaze flicked up to my face, and then back to his friends. I followed his gaze; Finn and the girl who I thought was the girlfriend Sarah were staring at me. Nate was already focused back on my arms again. "Let's go—you should get stitches, let's go to the hospital." He shook his head. "But we can't have our name down…"

"I don't need stitches," I said, and Nate sighed, his gaze rising to meet my eyes.

"Like hell you don't." He muttered.

"I can get my nurse at school to fix this magically—I just need someone to buy enough gauze to wrap up the cuts so I can get into my school without Albus having an aneurysm." I told Nate lowly as the wind kicked up around me; I shivered with cold, and Nate shrugged off his coat. "No, Nate—"

"Molly, I don't want to hear it right now. You're bleeding, you get coat privileges." He growled, putting the coat on my shoulders; I felt the downy warmth sink into me, and I relaxed a little. "Tell me what the fuck happened." He ordered.

"I told Dad that Cormac wasn't coming home for break." I told Nate softly, looking down at the cuts on my arms. "I fell down the front steps." I glanced back up at my little brother. "You told me I wasn't deciding and you were right. So I decided. I fixed it." Nate's gaze slowly lifted to mine, his eyes miserable. I'd said something wrong; _you told me_. This wasn't Nate's fault, but I could tell from the look on his face that he was sure it was, and my words had just accidentally confirmed that. "Don't give me that look." I murmured.

"Did he push you?" Nate asked under his breath, ducking his head again, and I shook my head; Nate let out a breath I didn't know he'd been holding. He released my arm like it was burning, looking up at me nervously.

"Swiped for me, I jumped back because I'm kind of an idiot…" I shrugged. "He didn't mean for me to fall, I don't think." Nate winced, and I knew what he was going to say long before he did. "But he never means for anyone to fall," I murmured, looking down at my arm. "And I'm always the one who gets hurt."

"Come on—there's a pharmacy a few blocks from here, I'll buy some gauze and stuff…" He glanced back at his friends, "I should tell them—"

"Tell them whatever you want but Dad wasn't involved." I murmured to him. Nate glanced back sharply at me, and I straightened up a little; Nate and I were falling into our normal pattern, where I led and he followed. I was the only person around whom Nate got to act like a kid, and I understood that that meant sometimes I got the worst of him—the bitchy letters telling me I was being indecisive, for example. But he had to stupid and immature to someone, and since I was family, he knew I wasn't going anywhere.

"Finn's not going to buy that." Nate murmured to me, and I swallowed my gaze on Nathaniel sharp, now. Finn Causer, Nate's best friend and the son of Mr. Causer, with whom our mum was theoretically having an affair. But his dad wouldn't have told him what was happening in our home, even if he did know. So the only way that Finn wouldn't buy any excuse we fed him about me showing up bloodied would be if—

"_You told him_?" I whispered in a panic, my hand closing around Nate's wrist. "His dad already knows too much—I'm not dragging another family down with us, Nathaniel—"

"I had to!" Nate whispered back to me, the anguish evident in his expression as the corners of his mouth turned down, his eyebrows pulling together. "Dad's a mental case and people are starting to catch on— Finn's my best friend." Nate stared at me. "He's not stupid, Molly. He knows something's going on and _you showing up covered in blood does not help that_—"

"Dad _broke my wand_, what the fuck do you expect me to do?" I hissed at him. "I don't need an army or a bitch load of cash—I need some gauze so I can get past my friends without them flipping out and then I swear to God, Nathaniel, you can go back to living your cute little existence with Sarah and Finn and pretend everything's perfect—" I cut myself off, glaring at Nate, and he glared right back at me; we remained like that for a moment, but I sensed people's gazes landing on us.

"Everything's _perfect_?" Nate's voice cracked on the second word as he stared at me, looking angry. "In what fucking world is this _perfect_—"

"The one where I just threw myself in the line of fire rather than let you or Cormac get hurt." My words were low and heated. "You are not in danger, Cormac's not in danger, just take the twins to get ice cream after school and Dad will probably be out for one of his walks or something by the time you get home." I met Nate's gaze evenly. "So go tell your friends we're leaving or I'll just steal your wallet and scare whatever poor soul is standing at the cash register in the nearest pharmacy, I don't care which." Nate stared at me, before he turned his back on me, going back to his friends; I remained the fifteen feet from Nate's friends that I'd been this whole time.

Nate went up to his friends, flashing them a tight smile, and I wondered, somewhere in my head, whether I was doing Nate a disservice, pulling him from his friends, destroying his lovely afternoon in the time it took me to fight with my father. This wasn't something that normal kids faced—in normal families, no one pulled anyone from their friends because they'd fallen in an accident that was sort of their father's fault, but also sort of not. No one did what I was doing right here. But reality had never been kind to the Gales.

Finn shot Nate a concerned look, but said nothing, apparently, because Nate returned with his backpack—the one he lugged around with him when he was just hanging out with people, not the one he used at school—slung over his shoulder. He shot me a miserable look as he stopped in front of me, and I looked back down at my arms.

"I guess we'll go." He murmured.

"Were your friends okay with it?" I asked him after a moment, looking up at him.

"Doesn't matter." He smiled ruefully. "Family comes first." The words—once a virtue—had become a kind of painful mantra in our family. As if by saying it enough times, loud enough, would drown out everything else.

Or maybe I just hoped it would.

* * *

An hour and a half later, I slipped into the hallway in front of Longbottom's office, my arms crossed awkwardly in front of me. I'd traded Nate, giving him back his winter coat for his school blazer, which had been at the bottom of his backpack; he'd gotten cold, and all I needed was something to cover up the gauze until I got to Madame Pomfrey.

I ducked my head as I walked through the halls, praying I wouldn't see Albus. My head was pounding, now; Nate had dug a bottle of Advil out of his bag and given me two, and that had helped, but head-plus-concrete was never a good idea. I wasn't sure it'd be wise to tell Madame Pomfrey about my head, though; the scrapes were just scrapes, but with head injuries, everyone asked questions. And I wasn't feeling quite well enough to lie as fluidly as I usually did.

I heaved a sigh of relief as I pressed my shoulder against the door of the Hospital Wing; I was safe. I slipped inside, letting the door shut behind me before I turned and started towards Madame Pomfrey, who was bustling around between a bed with a kid in it and her office. The second I spotted the patient, I tried to back up and turn around, as quietly as possible. And then everyone _around_ the patient looked up.

Fuck.

"Molly?" Al's voice was worried already, and he didn't even know that there was something to worry about, yet. "What—" He stepped away from his spot beside Fred's hospital bed, coming towards me, but I shook my head once, trying to tell him _not here_ in not so many words. Fred was cradling his arm on the hospital bed, with James Potter, Serafina Finnigan, and Lilly Potter standing around his bed in their scarlet Quidditch robes.

"I'll come back later—" I began, backing towards the door warily.

"No, Miss Gale, I'll have Mr. Weasley up and at 'em in no time." Madame Pomfrey tutted as she poked her head out of her office, her gaze serious on me. "Sit down on the bed next to Mr. Weasley and I will get to you in just a moment." She disappeared back into her office, but I remained caught between Fred's bed and the door to the Hospital Wing, my eyes wide as I glanced back to Albus.

"Why are you here?" Albus asked me, his voice confrontational as he stepped forward. James Potter, who was also on the Quidditch team, glanced at his little brother, obviously startled at the tone. But Albus wasn't angry—not at me, at least. I stared wordlessly at him, my mouth opening to say something, but then I couldn't come up with anything to say.

"I fell." I said after a moment, my voice low, before my gaze darted to Fred; I felt guilty. See, this was what I hated about having friends other than Rose. Albus wanted the truth all the time, even though it always sounded so much worse than what had actually happened. I _had _fallen. That wasn't a lie. But it still felt like one. I distracted myself by focusing on Fred's cradled arm, then looked up to him sympathetically. "What happened to you?"

"You fell." Albus repeated sarcastically.

"No, that's what happened to me," I said, tilting my head to smile a little, _shut-the-hell-up_ smile. But Albus had never been good at catching those. I looked back at Fred. "What happened to _you_?" I repeated.

"I was valiantly saving the young Miss Potter from death by bludger when said bludger—" He began dramatically. Even injured, Fred was a grand tale-teller.

"James hit it at me!" Lily inserted angrily, flashing a lethal glare at James, who winced a little.

"Accidentally—" James said, his voice a little pleading.

"I'm sure he didn't mean to, Lily…" Sera said soothingly.

"No, he did! He hates me!"

"Merlin's _beard_, Lily, get more dramatic," James snapped at his little sister.

"Alas," Fred interrupted loudly; everyone turned to look at him, "good sir, kind lady," He nodded first to James and then to Lily, "while I always appreciate a good Potter family feud, I have to point out at this juncture that it appears the lovely Miss Molly is apparently injured as well, methinks…" Fred said, and I narrowed my eyes at him. He wasn't deterred, dropping his act for but a moment. "You're hurt?"

"No." I said firmly.

"Then take off the blazer." Albus challenged. I turned to him, inhaling deeply.

"You don't waste time," I said, smiling wryly, and Fred chuckled lowly at the sexual innuendo I'd just forced into Albus's words. Albus's cheeks turned pink but he didn't falter. I felt my smile fade, and I sighed. "It's just a scrape."

"You would have healed that yourself." Albus shot back.

"I broke my wand." I admitted lowly, and Albus stared at me. I swallowed, glancing at Fred, who was watching me, his eyebrows knitted together with worry. Even Fred was worried about me. "Later, okay?" I asked him, glancing pointedly at Sera, James and Lily.

"We'll leave now." Sera offered, flashing me a kind smile; I met it with a stony look. "I just wanted to make sure James hadn't inadvertently murdered Fred…"

"Everyone is blowing this _way_ out of proportion." James grumbled.

"You tried to kill me!" Lily exclaimed.

"Does that sound like me?" James demanded.

"Yes." Lily insisted firmly; I snorted in laughter while James shot me an angry look.

"Guys, can you please…" Albus's voice was pained as he looked at his two siblings.

"Come on." Sera said determinedly, grabbing James's hand and pulling him after her; Lily followed, her expression so dark that I half expected her scarlet hair to catch on fire. Fred, Albus and I waited until they'd stepped outside, Lily beginning to jabber at James on their way out, and the door closed behind them before Albus looked back to me. I glanced from him to Fred, then back to Albus, before I sighed, pulling Nate's blazer carefully down my arms and slipping it off. I folded it and placed it on the edge of Fred's bed, then folded my arm with a wince, reaching up and removing the tape from around the gauze to show the scrape to Albus and Fred.

"What the hell happened…?" Albus demanded as he came over, one hand gently closing around my wrist, the other going under my elbow as he lifted my arm for inspection.

"He swiped for me and I fell backwards down some steps." I admitted softly. Albus's gaze moved from my arm to my face, and he looked positively horrified. I felt a surge of guilt; I hadn't thought this was that big of a deal, but now seeing Albus's face, I was rethinking that. "My wand broke when I fell—it was in my pocket—" I shook my head.

"Alright, Mr. Weasley, here we go, I'm able to heal you now—just had to send off notification of injury to your parents." Madame Pomfrey said easily as she bustled out of her office. She passed Albus and I without a second glance, for which I was grateful; I snatched my arm from Albus's grasp as she crossed straight to Fred. "Extend your arm, dear—"

"I'm fairly sure I can't." Fred pointed out. "It's sort of broken. That's _kind of _why I'm here." Madame Pomfrey raised her eyebrows at his smart-aleck comment. "I formally apologize for my rude comment." He said after a moment.

"Yes, you do." Madame Pomfrey said emphatically, and I snorted in laughter. "And try extending the arm, Mr. Weasley. You didn't break enough in your arm to keep you from doing that." Fred's jaw tightened as he looked down at his wrist, carefully unbending the elbow to get the arm to straighten. Madame Pomfrey murmured some spell and in a heartbeat, Fred relaxed. All fixed.

"Alright, Mr. Weasley, you're all set." She turned to me. "Miss Gale, what's wrong?" She asked me, all business.

"Just scraped my arms." I said shortly, showing her one arm. Madame Pomfrey frowned at my arm, before she tapped it my elbow with her wand; a prickly sensation swamped my forearm, before it disappeared, and I watched the scrape heal over. I lifted the other arm, peeling off the bandage.

"Who patched you up?" She asked, her voice light.

"My brother Nate…" I murmured, glancing up at her carefully; I had to remember that I'd lied to Longbottom about what I'd been doing back home. She nodded once, inspecting my scrape as it became visible. She tapped my elbow again and it healed over nicely.

"That all?" She asked me. I nodded. "Alright, Miss Gale, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley—out!" She gestured towards the door, and I grabbed Nate's blazer and hugged it to my chest as Fred leapt up, and both boys followed me into the hallway. Madame Pomfrey shut the door behind us, and both boys stopped, looking at me seriously; I turned to them, still hugging Nate's blazer.

"What do you mean he _swiped_ at you?" Albus's voice was quiet, and I bit my lip without meaning too, staring at him miserably.

"I had to tell him I wasn't sending Cory home." I told Al in a soft voice. "Because Nate would get hurt doing it and Cormac would get hurt if I did send him home." I swallowed. "He grabbed for me and I was standing at the top of the front steps—there are like three steps up to my door—and I stumbled backwards and fell." I stared at Albus. I wanted—of all things—absolution. I wanted to be forgiven for what I'd done. I hated caring about Albus for this specific reason; he'd started to affect every decision I made. I'd caused him a day of worry—I knew that. And I was sorry he'd had to worry, but I was also too aware of the fact that this had been my _only_ option.

Albus didn't say anything, and I glanced at Fred, my misery now etched on my face. Fred ran a hand over his face. "Molly, you can't go home anymore, okay?" He murmured to me. "Not without Albus, or me, or some sort of _thing_ between you and your dad." He tilted his head, looking at me. "Al and I spent all day wondering whether you were alright with your dad. All. Day." His expression was so pained that it made my stomach knot. "You can't _do _that to us." I studied the boys properly now; with Fred's words, it suddenly occurred to me that both boys looked stressed, Fred's eyes darker than usual, while Albus's usual smirk had long since been replaced by a grim line.

"That's all that happened, right?" Albus checked, his voice low; the sound of his voice made my entire being turn to him. I wanted so badly to be forgiven, now—I didn't quite understand why they worried so much, why I mattered so much to two boys that so clearly had better things to do than worry about _me_, but I let that slide for the ten seconds of Albus's voice. Everytime he spoke, there was a chance he'd be forgiving me. "You scraped your arms. That's it." He looked at me intensely. "Right?" I nodded once, uncertainly, and Albus exhaled heavily, before he covered the space between us, hugging me tightly to him. I hesitated, then pressed my face into his shoulder, hugging him back as I squeezed my eyes shut against the warm cloth there. "Jesus, Molly," his voice was rough as he spoke into my hair, and I turned my head so my cheek would press against his scarlet robes. "Why do you keep scaring the living daylights out of me?" He asked me hoarsely. I didn't respond, just kept my eyes shut. Albus's arms were warm and here, for ten seconds, I was safe and warm and as far from my family and everything bad. This was the most I'd let down my guard since…I couldn't even remember. And this would only last ten seconds, if that.

But I would take what I could get.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Fred was knocking on Professor Longbottom's office's door. I was leaning against the wall beside the door, and Albus was close beside me; he seemed reluctant to let me out of a two foot radius. I hadn't meant to scare the boys. Moreover, I wasn't sure whether to be annoyed by this surge of concern and protectiveness or just…roll with it. I was never much of a passive person, though.

"Come in," Professor Longbottom called out; Fred opened the door and stepped inside, holding the door open for me and then letting it close on Albus. Albus made a noise of protest as he shot Fred a glare. "Hi guys," Longbottom said as he put down his quill on top of whatever paper he'd just been scribbling on.

"Hi professor." I said with a nod as I led the way up to the desk; the boys were a little preoccupied being idiots to move. I pulled the two halves of my wand—it'd splintered in two—out of my pocket, nervously proffering them to my professor. "I broke it today—it was in my pocket and I fell and it just… broke." I swallowed, glancing up at Professor Longbottom. "Can it be fixed?"

"Maybe." Longbottom offered, inspecting the wand. "Probably, with the natural healing powers of the core." He mused.

"What's the core?" Albus asked as he stepped up beside me, and I glanced up at him, shrugging.

"You don't know what's in your core?" Fred demanded on my other side. My head swiveled to glare at him. "That's like forgetting your name in the Wizarding world." He told me.

"Well, I was pretty much a muggle when I bought it." I snapped at him.

"It's phoenix tears." Longbottom said absently to me, still studying the wand. I nodded, trying to remember that.

"Keeping tabs on our wands, Uncle Neville?" Albus asked his mum's best friend with a grin.

"I took Molly to get this wand." Longbottom said, looking up at Albus. "It was the first one I'd bought since I was eleven. I remember that sort of thing."

"You took Molly to get her wand?" Albus asked, his gaze flicking from Longbottom to me. I held my breath. I'd mentioned in passing something about my dad ditching me when I was eleven, I was sure I had, but I'd never fully explained myself. And Albus deserved the full explanation, I thought. So did Fred. They were pretty much closer to me than even Rose was, at this point.

"There was a brief period where my Dad took my family and ditched me when I got my Hogwarts' letter." I told him quietly, my jaw set. "I stayed with Professor Longbottom's grandmother." Albus blinked down at me, and I looked back to my head of house. Longbottom met my gaze evenly. I knew that he'd been watching me more and more over the past few weeks; he was trying to figure out what I was doing for break without asking me. I appreciated the space he was trying to give me, though; he hadn't given me detention for telling the Weasleys to fuck off, either, so that made me a fan. Longbottom was a decent head of house, anyway.

"What are you doing for break?" He asked me after a moment.

"Staying at the Leakey Cauldron." I responded, my voice level. I wasn't giving him space to argue with me. Nevertheless, he made space.

"Is that wise, with an eleven-year-old boy in tow?" He asked me. I stared at Longbottom. I'd spent too long today protecting Cormac and Nate from our father to have my judgment shaken by my head of house, especially since I thought that Longbottom really just wanted what was best for Cormac. Too bad that still meant he was sticking his nose where he didn't belong.

"Do you have an eleven-year-old boy?" I asked him coldly. Beside me, the boys bristled, recognizing the challenge in my voice; to his credit, Longbottom just shook his head. "Then you wouldn't know what it's like raising one, would you?" Longbottom said nothing now, but I saw him blush a little. I let the silence settle in him for a moment. "You're a nice man, but you really, really don't know my life, sir." I stared at him. "You don't get to sit on your throne and judge me for my decisions when you really have no idea what they're based on." I gave him thirty seconds of silence, allowing him to wallow in guilt, before I continued. "And Cormac's spending Christmas with Roger and Neela Kader."

Longbottom raised his eyebrows, looking up at me, before he looked down at my broken wand. "Nice family," He said demurely, and I smothered a small smile. I'd just won that battle fair and square.

My professor pulled out his wand, dragging the tip of it along my wand as he murmured some spells I'd never heard before; my wand glowed a violent red before it snapped back together. He pushed the wand back across the desk to me, and I picked it up, breathing a sigh of relief. Had my wand been properly broken, I wasn't sure where I would have found the money to buy a new one.

"Thanks." I said briefly to Longbottom.

"No problem." He said gently to me. "If you need a place to say over break, Hogwarts is always open." He said after a moment.

"I need to come and go to Nottingham—I have to go to Cal and Ellie's Christmas pageant and talk to my mum." I said after a moment, feeling a little touched by the offer. Oh, God. I was _touched_. I never felt touched. What was the boys' friendship doing to me? "Thanks, though." I felt a wave of self-disgust—I felt touched. Really, Molly? _Really? _Hugged and feeling touched within a half hour—I was turning into a regular sap.

I pulled away from the boys and from my teacher. "See you in class on Monday." I said to my Professor, turning away, and behind me, I could tell that Fred and Albus were trading looks about who'd said what wrong.

No, I was the one who'd been wrong.

* * *

That night, both Fred and Albus went to bed early; apparently they'd both tired themselves out worrying about me. Rose was nowhere to be found in the Common Room, so by ten PM, I was trudging up the stairs to the girls' dormitory myself. I slipped inside, and realized that the reason I couldn't find Rose downstairs was that she was already up here, busily writing a letter. She glanced up, obviously startled by my quiet entry into the room, and she immediately, covered her letter with her textbook, which was sitting beside her.

"Hey Rosie," I said with a small smile, crossing to my trunk. "You writing your parents?" I asked after a second.

"Yeah." She said, sounding, oddly, relieved. I glanced up at her. "So I heard from the boys that you went home today." She said, changing subjects deftly. I nodded a little. "How'd it go?"

"I fell in a kind of accident-thing…" I admitted a little as I looked back down at my trunk, poking it with my wand roughly; it popped open, and I frowned at it, reaching down to shuffle through my clothing. "He swiped at me—tried to grab me? I 'm not even sure what the plan was, but he reached out for me and I knew that was bad, so I tried to step back, but there were stairs and I scraped up my arms…Dad might have actually meant for me to get hurt this time, though." I admitted lowly. I heard the sound of quill against paper, and I glanced up at Rose at the same time she looked up at me.

"What?" She asked me after a second. Rose hadn't been listening. I shook my head once, looking back down at my trunk.

It seemed like Rose was never listening, these days.

* * *

**A/N:** Alright: this is up fastfastfast because I feel guilty the last one took so slowly/I finished this quicker than I expected.

Also: next two chapters are BIG, folks. Huge. Like, massively-world-changing. IT's a two-parter but it's still two chapters, because it's a continuation of one scene into the next chapter.

MASSIVE.

HUGE.

Mostly I'm just trying to get y'all pumped.

3

So, to my reveiwers, as always, who make writing these seven-thousand-six-hundred word chapters easier to write (and a super thanks this week, because that chapter was not very good writing/posted very late… this super thanks makes itself known with a different emoticon and super boldness for each of you! Also, the degrees of happiness for emoticons do not matter for the purposes of this exercise; they're all equal amounts of awesomeosity being doled out):

**Allen Pitt…... X]  
SpencerReidFan89...…. :D  
foesizzle13…... :]  
pottercullen-4ever…... :o)  
alicecullenisrealinmyworld...… C: (also, to your question, no they are not, but that is coming up….they're just super flirty. Mega flirty.)  
studygirl10…... =)  
hushpuppy22…... 8]  
ixamxeverywhere…... XD  
FallenStar22…...8D  
xxsockixxx…... =D  
wHaT's In A pEn-NaMe….. =]  
NotADreamYetNotANightmare….. :-D  
KaitlynEmmaRose….. :^)  
angel2u…..8-]  
hgromanticsap...:^D **

**And glad to have you back, SiNgInG iN tHe RaIn...8^D**

PS I am so glad that no more people reviewed in the last forty-eight hours (which is approximately how long it took me to write this chapter) because I have officially run out of happy emoticons.


	20. Don't Trust Me, Part 1

**A/N:** Here it is. Written in just four days. Beta'd by Molivline (thank her for all the little words that I always forget, ex. 'the'). The biggest. Chapter. Ever. Actually, no, that's false, there's a bunch of stuff that'll go down at the end of Molly Gale's school year, but this is SUPER HUGE TOO. so. You know. Enjoy. Because not all chapters will be this dramatic.

* * *

Don't Trust Me

_Black dress with the tights underneath,  
I got the breath of the last cigarette on my teeth,  
And she's an actress, but she ain't got no need  
__She's got money from her parents in a trust fund back east...  
Bruises cover your arms,  
__Shaking in the fingers with the bottle in your palm,  
__And the best is, no one knows who you are,  
__Just another girl, alone at the bar.  
__Don't trust a whore, Never trust a whore,  
__Won't trust a whore,  
__Don't trust me._

_-3Oh!3_

After a blow up—whether it was between Nate and me or me and Dad or whatever—Nate and I didn't talk. We let the distance grow because Nate and I both needed regrouping time—time to pick ourselves up off the floor and root through the disaster that had just occurred, try to figure out what went wrong. Sometimes—like when I got kicked out—we threw each other an _I'm alive_ note, but only when things were bad. So I was expecting, post-Saturday, to not here from Nate for a while.

But here we were on the fifth day, and I had heard nothing from Nate.

Not a word. And it was screwing with my brain. I was thinking up every nightmare situation that I could, and all of them left me with a brain aneurysm. I even had a nightmare Wednesday night that had robbed me of what little sleep I had managed to claim between correcting Cormac's Transfiguration term paper and doing my own homework. But that was why, when Albus tapped my shoulder on Thursday morning at breakfast, I jumped maybe a foot in the air and knocked my plate into my empty cup, sending it clattering. Fred caught it with his ninja skills, setting it back on the table to a muttered thanks from me.

"Good morning." Albus said slowly. "Someone's jumpy." He pointed out, slipping into the seat beside me. He grabbed the pitcher of pumpkin juice, then my cup, pouring me some, and he set it down in front of me. I blinked down at it, before I looked back up at him. "You look like you could use it." He said.

"That bad?" I asked, and Fred, across the table, grinned, drawing my gaze to him.

"You look like a zombie." He told me.

"You charmer." I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes; all the same, I reached up to fuss with my hair. "Is that how you get all the ladies?"

"Oh, yes." Fred said indulgently. "I tell them how terrible they look and they just… fall over their feet, getting to me."

"Mm-hmm." Albus said skeptically. "That's why you had to ask Maia to the dance twice before she said yes—"

"Switching topics." Fred said loudly as Rose and I laughed softly. "You ready for the game today?" He asked Albus, grinning. "Ready to kick some Slytherin ass?" He asked. I raised my eyebrows, glancing up at Albus. Today we had a big Quidditch game—the last one before break, and it was considered the kick off to Christmas break, coupled with the holiday dance. It was a big deal who won this game. And to make it worse, it was Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. The last game against Slytherin had been when I was dating Rory, and Albus hadn't caught the snitch, sending him into an angry, depressed state that I'd had to talk him out of. And I'd hoped, then, distantly, that the next game against Slytherin would be lower stakes, maybe a game on a Hogsmeade Saturday, so not as many people would come. But it seemed that Albus wasn't going to catch a break.

"Are you?" I asked curiously, when Albus didn't respond; he glanced down at me, his expression clearly telling me to shut up. I blinked, then yawned tiredly, covering my mouth with my hand, and when I recovered, Albus was frowning at me.

"You yawned." He noted. I raised my eyebrows.

"Indeed I did, oh observant one." I said, mocking him lightly.

"Bad night's sleep?" Albus asked me; I glanced at him, judging how seriously he would take my response.

"Nah," I lied.

"Liar." Rose immediately called me out on it, and then avoided my gaze; I couldn't help but wonder why. "She had a nightmare. After staying up half the night helping Cormac on his homework."

"It's fine." I said, cutting off Albus before he could start in.

"Sounds like it." Albus murmured sarcastically. "Nightmares. Always great." I didn't dignify that with a response. "What's up?" He asked me.

"The kids." I said after a moment, glancing up at Albus, my eyes—with the deep purple circles beneath them, a result of no sleep—meeting his green gaze. I was tired in more ways than one. My life had turned into a one-woman show of alright-ness. And no one was even watching anymore—everyone knew, thanks to the _Prophet_ and Celia, how screwed up everything was.

"You haven't heard from Nate, still?" Fred asked after a moment. I glanced across the table at him, then shook my head once. "You think he's okay?" Fred asked after a second, his voice careful.

"Nate can take care of himself." I said, and this was the first thing I was properly sure of. Dad was crazy, Mum wouldn't do a thing to stop him, Cal and Ellie were too young to do anything for themselves. But Nate was strong. Just like me. "Let's talk about something else."

"Alright." Rose straightened up. "Let's talk about the dance." The boys groaned and I winced; Rose smiled angelically at us.

"Do we have to?" Al demanded.

"Yes." She said firmly to him. "Did you ask anyone to the dance?" Albus choked on the sip of his own Pumpkin juice; I laughed softly, even as Fred shot Rose an annoyed look. I understood the feeling, even if I was better at hiding my annoyance; it seemed like all Rose could talk about was the dance. Granted, it was tonight, so maybe today it was warranted, but she'd been talking about it for weeks. "Alright, taking _that_ as a no." She continued, oblivious to our irritation, and looked at me. "Molly Gale, did anyone ask you?" I frowned at her, letting that be my answer. "Another no." She looked at Fred, and he stiffened. "Why are we the only social ones in this group?"

"Well," Fred's voice was acidic, and my eyes widened as I recognized the sound of Fred genuinely angry about something, "you're going with Molly's ex-boyfriend, so I'm fairly sure that actually loses you any points you would have gained." Fred said shortly, before he took a sip of the coffee in his cup, calm as anything. Rose straightened up defensively as I stared at Fred, silence falling over Al, Rose and me. Oh, Hell.

"It's fine with Molly." Rose snapped at Fred, her face turning red. I raised my eyebrows; Rose had never asked me if it was fine with me. And no one with eyes and ears would have been convinced by my performance in the dress shop. "She dumped him like two months ago—"

"It's still weird." Fred said shortly, glancing at Rose; she flinched a little. Rose could yell at people, but the second you pushed her on anything, she tended to collapse in on herself rather than stand up for whatever it was she was supposed to be supporting. "You're her _best_ _friend_ and you're going with her ex-boyfriend. That's bad." I swallowed. That sounded bad, and it was bad, a little bit.

"She didn't even treat him well." Rose snapped.

"He accused me of cheating." I said to Rose, frowning at her. "I wasn't. Who treated whom badly, again?"

"You _practically_ cheated." She said, turning to me wildly, pushing her hair out of her face, glaring at me.

The silence returned: Fred, Al and I exchanged looks, then stared at Rose, who frantically looked around from person to person, as if expecting to see some sort of support from Albus or Fred. Rose _thought_ I'd cheated on Rory. I felt hurt swirl around somewhere in my head where I still allowed emotion, before I straightened up, my eyes narrowing as I tried to salvage what I could of this. But my brain kept popping back to the fact that Rose—my best friend, the girl with whom I trusted everything—had thought I was cheating on Rory. I'd thought she knew me better.

"I…" I fell silent. I didn't even know how to respond to this.

"Molly, think about it." Rose said heatedly, leaning forward; her words cut at me, and I glared at her. "The entire time you two were together, Rory was playing second fiddle to Albus." She gestured at her cousin across the table; Albus, beside me, was frozen. "Rory wanted to grab dinner, but Albus was upset about the game so you went and talked him down from his broom." Rose sounded so angry, now, that the emotion threw me off—why was she _mad_? Even if what she was saying was true—which it _wasn't_, I mean the incident was, but she wasn't right about the conclusion—what stake did she have in this that she got to be mad at me? "Rory told you how uncomfortable he was with you spending time with Albus and you blew him off." She paused, her gaze burning on me. I hadn't told her any of this; how did she know it? "And then Rory asked you to choose." Her voice was final, and cruel, and I felt my stomach knot. "And you chose Albus." She stared at me hard. "I'm still so stunned by the hypocrisy of it all." She glared at me. "You give me these big speeches about morality and treating boys like humans and—" She shook her head, as if disappointed in me. "And you _cheated_ on a really nice boy."

I swallowed, feeling the bottom of my stomach disappear. I wasn't up for this—I was too tired to handle this, and 90% of my brain was already dedicated to worrying about Nate and Cal and Ellie, as it always was. I couldn't stand here and have Rose hurl insults at me, especially not insults that rung true. I wanted to smack Rose, or cry, maybe. But I didn't smack people and I certainly didn't cry. I was Molly Gale. I could weather my father, and I could weather my brother, and I could weather Rose Weasley.

"You want to talk hypocrisy?" I said after a moment, my voice low and lethal. I wasn't in the mood for a take down—this wasn't like anger at Celia, which was gratifying. This was just painful. "I stood by you while you cheated on nearly every guy in our grade—even the good ones. Liam was in fucking love with you, Rose. And you cheated on him with some Slytherin kid who you—shocker—cheated on." I raised my eyebrows. "There is no speech you could give me about cheating that I haven't given you a thousand times."

"I—" Rose fell silent, blushing as her eyes filled with tears. It was useless fighting with Rose because she always ended up in tears. Rose's tearful gaze flicked from me to Albus, then to Fred, as she searched for a sympathetic face. "Guys…" She sounded pathetic, her voice too high as she tried to sound angry rather than lonely. After a second, the tears overflowed, and she shoved herself to her feet, stepping over the bench and running down the pathway between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. Fred, Albus and I watched her go in silence, until she left the hall. Then I let my gaze flick the boys, my mouth a little open; even for Rose, drama queen extraordinaire, this was quite a performance. Albus was just frowning, looking a little irritated and a little confused, but Fred just rolled his eyes, grabbing his coffee and taking another sip. After he'd swallowed, he offered Albus and me a wan smile.

"What a great way to start the day."

* * *

"All right, guys, that's all." Professor Longbottom said, smiling at us from the front of the classroom. "I'm going to let you go early. Literally none of you are concentrating." He said the words in good humor, and usually I'd reward that with a smile, but I was far too preoccupied. Rose was sitting beside me—we were partners in this class—but she'd not said a word to me the entire class, studiously avoiding my gaze and not touching the note I'd slid across the table to her. I'd felt the boys watching us—trying to catch Rose's eye, or maybe mine, I wasn't sure—but I'd avoided them. Fighting with Rose this morning had left me horribly on edge.

"Rose." I said firmly as she slammed shut her textbook and shoved it in her bag. She didn't even glance at me as she lifted her bag onto her shoulder; meanwhile, I scrambled to get my notebook shut, lifting it into my arms rather than put it in my bag as I tried to catch up to Rose. I literally ran in front of her, stopping there as I stared at her. "Rose, I'm sorry about this morning—" I was left apologizing to Rose, here. This was pathetic. I was pathetic. But I'd rather lose the battle and save our friendship than the alternative.

"I don't want to talk about it." Rose murmured, pushing past me.

"Too bad." I growled at her, grabbing her bag; she turned around and tried to tug it from me, but I held on tightly. "Tell me what the hell's going on." She glared at me, but I held strong. Rose was a sprinter, in terms of fighting; she could fight admirably, for about three seconds. But then she got tired. I was a marathoner. I worked smarter, not harder, and shut people down long before they got started. If I just waited, Rose might give.

"I forgive you, okay." Rose hissed at me, the words sounding odd when she was obviously still so angry. "Done." I stared at her.

"You don't…" I heard my own vulnerability in my voice, and hated it, hastily covering it, but my words revealed how confused I was by this argument, "you don't _sound _like you forgive me." I pointed out.

"What do you want from me?" She demanded raggedly, her shoulder sagging, all the anger evaporating in a heartbeat.

"I want to know what's going on that's made you like this." I hissed, stepping closer to her. "You're my best friend, have been since we were eleven, and I have _never _seen you act so psychotic as you are today—"

"I am not acting psychotic—"

"Yeah, you are." I shot back. She fell silent, staring down at me.

"I'm sorry." She said after a second. Her voice was oddly resigned.

"That is not what I want." I told her slowly after a second. I didn't want an apology. I wanted an explanation.

"Too bad." Rose muttered. She tore away from me, her eyes filled with tears again as she ducked out of the Green House. I watched her go, feeling a numbness creep around my heart. What the hell was going on with Rose? She was acting crazy—literally insane. Rose had never been predictable—she had always been a bit of a wild card—but this was a new level. And I was too busy with every other thing going in my life right now to give a damn about what Rose was doing.

"Molly?" Professor Longbottom's voice broke my reverie. I glanced up at him, blinking hard to clear my vision, and he watched me sympathetically. "Everything okay?" He asked, glancing pointedly at the door that Rose had just stormed through. I hesitated, before I nodded.

"Fine." I said softly, as Albus came up behind me. I glanced back at Albus, thinking of what Rose had said this morning. I'd chosen Albus over Rory a hundred times when Rory and I were dating. I was sure that didn't constitute cheating, but it meant something. Maybe more than something, because I was the girl who pushed everyone away, and early on, I'd stopped pushing Albus away.

"You okay?" He asked me, putting a hand on my back and I felt it, now, wondering what it meant. Every time Albus had every touched me, every brush of our hands, every time he'd touched my hair, every time he'd called me love. What did they mean? I swallowed that question, immediately calling myself an idiot; I hated Rose for doing this to my brain. I knew what this meant—I'd known all along what Albus wanted, how he felt. I'd known since August 18th, when I'd wound up at the Leakey Cauldron and found Albus there and he'd flirted. I'd just been parading around like I didn't know, or maybe didn't care. And Rose was making me face up to the mess that was Albus Severus Potter.

"I have History of Magic." I said after a second, turning away from him and starting for the door.

"That wasn't an answer to my question." He told me, his voice slightly louder to make sure I heard his words even as I walked away.

"I don't have one." I told him, glancing back with a small, rueful smile.

At least I was being truthful.

* * *

"It's too fucking cold." Liam muttered as he slipped into the seat beside me, pulling his jacket tighter around himself as the wind kicked up; we were at the Quidditch pitch. The snow was falling already, thick and hard, and I felt a pang of concern for Fred and Al, both of whom would have to fly in this. No one who grew up playing Quidditch seemed to recognize what a really dangerous sport it was; the Potter clan seemed completely oblivious to it.

It'd been two class periods since Rose had walked out of the Green House, and I hadn't talked to her since. She had to figure out what was going on inside her head before I was willing to shuffle through it—I just wasn't up to running after her and her insanity, right now. Maybe after break, once I'd rested up, though I hoped to God she was over whatever-it-was by then.

"It's winter." I told him with narrowed eyes. "Tends to get cold." Liam flashed me a grin; he didn't care that I was being a brat. That was what being this close to Holiday break did to Hogwarts students. Suddenly, we were all happy and relaxed.

"_Alright, you lot,"_ Donovan Goyle's booming voice came over the stands as the last and latest of the students filed in; the crowd fell silent as the second-year announcer looked around. "_Let's get this started, shall we?" _There was a round of cheering, and I grinned, even as I eyed the pitch nervously; I could barely see the Slytherin side of the field through the snow. The boys had to fly in this. This was going to be one of those games that put my teeth on edge. "_Flying for Slytherin: Graciano Corsi, Robert Preben, Theodora Wexley, Natalya Swann, Oberon Zabini, Brian Gallagher, Eleuthera Prince." _Liam and I both snorted at the final name; sometimes the pureblooded families just stunned me with the way they named their children. _Eleuthera_? That was just child cruelty, naming your kid that. The Slytherins broke into cheers anyway, and I rolled my shoulders uncomfortably, waiting in complete silence on the Gryffindor side of the pitch as we glared at their players as they flew on.

"_For Gryffindor_," Donovan contiued, his voice flatter, now; he didn't give a damn about the Gryffindor team, but there was a collective air of excitement on the Gryffindor side of the pitch. "_We have Duane Jordan, Fred Weasley, James Potter, Albus Potter, Lily Potter, (I sense a little bias, Professor!)" _There was a roar of protest from the Gryffindor side of the pitch; the Potters just happened to be a Quidditch family. And any implication of favoritism towards the Potters because of their father did not make go over well with anyone who knew them._ "Alright, alright, you lot, hush up—" _There was a pause as a professor scolded Goyle, before he returned gruffly, "_Finally, Serafina Finnigan and Grace McClellan." _The red robes spilled onto the field and the entire Gryffindor portion of the crowd jumped to their feet, cheering loudly, even as the wind ripped through the pitch, making my hair fly around my face. "_Everybody take your places, and Madame Wood will start the game in…three…two…one…and the balls have been released!"_

The bludgers shot into the air with a low whistling sound, and the snitch shot into the air, while Madame Wood threw the quaffle into the air. Serafina Finnigan sprinted forward for it, but got knocked out of the way by a bludger that hit her side; she flipped on her broom, but she pressed a hand to her ribs as she swooped away.

Albus shot upwards, hovering above everyone, while James shot towards Sera and Fred took off towards the bludgers. Grace was already hollering—something along the lines of _Goddammit, James, Sera's fine!_—but it was impossible to hear her over the wind and the snow.

"This game is going to be impossible." I half-shouted to Liam, the only way to get him to hear me even though he was just beside me. He nodded, leaning over the railing, and I swallowed, grabbing the railing myself as a strong wind blew through, knocking the first year beside me into me. I didn't shoot her a dirty look, though; I recognized her as one of Cormac's friends. I spared them my wrath, mostly because I knew Cormac would throw a monster-sized fit if I didn't.

Fred smacked the bludger towards Natalya Swann, who dodged it and, swishing around, cut in front of Fred so quickly he had to drop ten feet in the air and lost sight of the bludger. Sera regained something akin to balance and took off after Grace McClellan and Lily Potter, while James hastened to catch up with Fred.

And the game had begun.

"How is Albus going to find the snitch?" Liam murmured in my ear, the only way we could hear each other; I pulled away from him, glancing up at him with a shake of my head. I had no idea. I couldn't see four feet in front of me. Finding a tiny golden snitch in this would be hellish. Liam and I watched the players scatter, and I kept an eye out for Albus, hoping for just a little glimpse of him, but he was long gone, the snow hiding him.

"_FOUL ON WEASLEY!" _Goyle hollered suddenly, two minutes later, and I squinted at the snow; really? I could see some red and green figures that had stopped moving, which usually meant arguing, in Quidditch. But I didn't see enough to figure out who was who, much less who had fouled who. "_Gallagher is on the ground now—first disabled of the game, due to a bludger from Fred Weasel—oops, Weasley—" _Heavy booing from the Gryffindor side met Goyle's words: what an original shot at Fred. Really. People had been making that joke since their _parents _were kids.

"Landau, in for Gallagher!" I heard team captain Robbie Preben shout, and there was a shuffle of green robes on the sideline, before Greg Landau kicked off, and replaced Gallagher. Then the game began again, people darting around once more.

"Where's Rose?" Liam asked me after a few minutes, turning to me with a frown. I looked up at Liam carefully, the words I'd said this morning to Rose echoing in my head: _Liam was in fucking love with you_. Liam had been in love with Rose. But she'd dumped him without a second thought, so he'd hated her. And now he had to treat Rose like a normal person. It made me feel bad for Liam—except I was the girl with no emotion. Sometimes I felt like grabbing Albus and Fred and shaking them—it was their fault that I was this way, suddenly feeling guilty or sympathetic or happy. I'd been stoic, before. Now it was like I was falling down a mountain or something, losing ground faster than I could ever hope to make it back.

"She's been mental all day," I told him, glancing up with a tight smile for a moment, then let it drop. "But you know how that works."

"I do." He agreed, the word sounding like a concession. "She barely shows for prefect rounds, and when she does, she get all offended when I ask her when she's been." He shrugged.

"She flipped on me this morning—like properly flipped." I told him after a moment, my voice quiet and careful. I wasn't usually in the business of talking about Rose behind her back, but something was going on with her. "She told me I'd _practically_ cheated on Rory, with Albus. Which is false."

"You didn't cheat." He agreed after a moment, and my gaze snapped up to him; that sounded like only a partial agreement. "Molls, look—you…" he paused, seeming to reorganize his thoughts. "You didn't cheat." He repeated. "But you weren't exactly a great girlfriend."

"Liam—" I growled.

"No, Molly—hear me out." He said. "You were dating Rory. And you were—you kept Albus around." He looked down at me. "Albus has been pretty clear about his intentions and you didn't tell him to fuck off, even though you had a boyfriend. Not cheating—" He repeated, making clear that he was on his own side of this argument. "But something that wasn't great."

"Albus has no _intentions_…" I said, dragging out the word that sounded like something from health class, back when I'd gone to a muggle school and had something like health class.

"That would be false." Liam said firmly.

"We aren't having this conversation." I said firmly.

"Alright, you want to do this?" Liam demanded, looking to me irritably. "One, he's crazy protective. About everything. Two, he flipped a shit when you started dating Rory—he was jealous, Molly, get with the game plan—" I smacked Liam's arm for that, and he glared at me, "and when you _dumped_ Rory for _him_—which, by the way, yes, you did, before you go down that path—"

"No I didn't dump Rory for Albus!" I hissed at him, grabbing his arm. "I'm fucking tired of everyone saying that—I dumped Rory because he didn't know me if—"

"You chose him." Liam interrupted, shaking his head as he negated my entire argument. "What do you think that translates to, for Albus? That you thought he was a really awesome friend and you wanted to be best friends forever and braid each other's hair and paint each other's nails?" Liam looked down at me seriously, his eyebrows drawn together. "You're not stupid, Molly. Stop acting like it."

"_10 points for Gryffindor,_" Donovan said suddenly in a grim voice; Gryffindors broke out cheering, despite the fact that no one saw what had just happened, but I just frowned up at Liam. "_And it looks like Sera Finnigan's out with an injury, making her the second disabled player this game—_"I glanced out through the snow, making sure that Sera hadn't gone spiraling to the ground or anything—she hadn't—before I glared down at the railing in front of me. "_Nelly Vane in for Sera Finnigan, with James Potter rotating out as well—following your girlfriend, Potter? Rory Corner replaces James Potter and the game resumes_."

I glanced up through the snow, still hoping for a glimpse of Albus as I considered what Liam had said. I was really fighting with Liam for the fight's sake, rather than actual conflict of belief. I knew Albus didn't want to be my best friend. I was just trying to figure out what I wanted, still. I wasn't sure—and part of me wouldn't let myself decide. Because I didn't have so much to lose, anymore, that letting myself want Albus, and then losing him, would be alright.

But Albus was pretty adamant about sticking to me. He'd made that more than clear.

"Rory told me Albus fancies me." I said softly.

"Rory's a smart bloke." Liam agreed.

"He's the one who accused me of—"

"Cheating, cheating, yes, I know, bad Rory." Liam said obediently. "He probably just drew that from you spending every spare second with a certain roommate of mine…and from Rose's constant prattling." Liam shook his head as I glanced sharply up at him.

"What constant prattling?" I demanded, my eyes narrowed.

"She's been talking about you and Albus since September." Liam said. "Even to Rory. Which seemed tactless, but she's Rose, you know?" He smirked. "It's not that she lacks tact. It's that she refuses to use it."

"Rose talked about me and Albus to Rory when we were dating?" I asked in a low voice.

"Indeed." Liam said, glancing down at me.

I felt an odd feeling creep up my spine. Rory had accused me of cheating, which at the time, had seemed beyond rude. But if he'd heard from my _best _friend that I had _something _going on with her cousin—who would he be to argue with that? My best friend should have been as good a source as anyone. But Rose had to know that talking about me and a boy in front of my boyfriend would be bad. And she wouldn't have done that. She was my best friend.

Except that this felt like the millionth thing I'd had to excuse her for because of our friendship.

"_Natalya Swann has spotted the snitch_!" Donovan Goyle's voice slammed over the stadium, shaking me from my thoughts of Rose and Rory. The moment the meaning of the words hit me, I felt dread seize me as I leaned forward, searching the pitch. Where was Al? He couldn't lose another game to Natalya, it'd crush him.

_Please, please, please, _I murmured as I tried my hardest to spot Albus in the array of players in the swirling snow. Suddenly, there was a glimmer of gold and a high pitched buzzing—the snitch was two feet from my face, and a half second later, Natalya and Albus, even with each other, zipped after the snitch, their robes flapping and snapping as they both went faster than their brooms were meant to take them.

"_Swann and Potter are shoulder-to-shoulder after the snitch—" _Donovan exclaimed, "_I have never seen someone go so fast on a Comet 7950—Merlin's beard—" _I held my breath. Please. Please. Albus could get that snitch. I _knew_ he could. "_Swann gains the lead—and Potter snatches it back. Just ten feet behind that snitch—now eight! Six!"_ The crowd was silent as we all waited with baited breath; Albus _had _to get that snitch.

I could see the green and the red, and Albus's distinctive black hair was also visible now that he was down to my eyelevel. They sped around the pitch—_please, please, please _I thought the word with every ounce of my being—before Natalya and Albus both wobbled, and then Albus leapt forward. Both of them skidded to a stop, and the wind kicked up for a moment before it died down, and through the momentary silence, I could hear Natalya cursing.

"_Gryffindor WON!"_ Donovan Goyle exclaimed angrily, and the stands around me _roared_ as everyone jumped to their feet, including me. I couldn't help the massive grin that split my face as I whooped, while Liam shouted beside me.

Finally, I got something good.

* * *

Half an hour later, the Gryffindor team came into the Common Room to a loud cheer—people were ecstatic. This was a good day; classes were over for two weeks, we had the dance tonight, and Gryffindor had won the game. Sera, her broken ribs wrapped and healed by Madame Pomfrey (Gallagher's bludger had done some damage), was sitting beside me on the couch, but she was curled up beside James, who had a protective arm around her as he glared down at the coffee table. Both of them had come down early because they'd left from the pitch for the Hospital Wing, then just come back to the Common Room.

The second the team came in, I bounced to my feet, my head spinning still with the win. I could tell from the faces of the team that they were still pretty proud of themselves. I scanned the red robes for Albus, and when I saw him, a second wave of elation, topping the one I'd felt when he'd won, hit me; ignoring my better judgment, I covered the space between us, hugging him tightly. He laughed, sounding happier than I had heard him in weeks as he caught me.

"You caught the snitch!" I said in a whisper so excited I was practically hoarse, grinning up at him. My gaze locked on his, my grin taking over my face, and he grinned down at me, his eyes brighter than I'd seen them in some time—he was proud of himself. He should be. He'd done _great_ out there.

"I caught the snitch." He echoed, grinning down at me. "I. Caught. The. Snitch." He looked up on the last word, around to the rest of the Common Room, and since the butter beer had already made an appearance, there was a hearty cheer. I felt laughter spill out of me accidentally, ducking my head against Albus's chest, my forehead touching his robes, and let the happiness fill me. Albus ran a hand through my hair, and I exhaled sharply at how nice that felt.

"A toast!" Fred Weasley called out; I glanced up as Fred, butter beer already in hand, lifted it, clapping his cousin on the back with the other hand. His butter beer swished but didn't spill. "To this good man," Fred began, and Al laughed, one arm dropping from my waist as he hooked it around Fred's shoulders, I grinned, leaning against Al, "Who saved the Gryffindor qudditch team from a pathetic defeat by the Slytherins," Cheers broke out at this (the butter beer had _definitely _made an appearance) and Al glanced down at me; I laughed softly—I was too happy. This was too good. I knew it couldn't last—I knew that tomorrow morning I would get up, get a room at the Leakey Cauldron, and be pretty much alone for the next two weeks. But I couldn't let this go to grasp that.

Fred stopped toasting Albus as Rory passed him; Fred leapt on him, congratulating him with a grin as Rory laughed, staggering against the tackle. "Nice job," James Potter said quietly to his brother with a tight smile from the couch, which AL and I were standing a few feet from; that was the most that Albus could hope for from James, and I felt Al straighten up. Even if it wasn't much, Al liked to know his brother thought he'd done well.

Albus's arm dropped from my waist, but his hand found mine, his fingers twining in mine as he pulled behind him, around the couch. I glanced up at him, but he didn't say anything, and I looked down at our hands. "Ser, you okay?" Albus asked, pulling me beside him.

"Yeah—I apparently broke three ribs." Sera said sheepishly. Albus winced in sympathy, and I frowned at Sera.

"Are you still able to go to the dance?" I asked after a second.

"Oh, I've had worse." Sera said easily, brushing the thought off; James bristled beside her, dropping his forehead to her shoulder. Sera ran a hand down his arm. "Jamesie just doesn't like it much, when I get hurt. A little protective, this one." She rolled her eyes, smiling in spite of herself, before her gaze landed on me. "You know about that, though."

I raised my eyebrows, but Albus chuckled. "She does." Albus agreed, and I pushed some of my hair out of my face, nodding once. I did, despite the fact that I didn't know what to think of the comparison between Sera and myself. Sera was James Potter's girlfriend—I was not Albus Potter's girlfriend.

I found myself playing along, though, after a moment. "He flipped on me just last weekend because I scraped my arm," I said, smiling a little at Sera, who brightened; I never engaged with her, the fact that I'd bothered to respond probably meant something to her cheerful self. The thing was, as sunny as Sera was, she required a lot of upkeep. She needed the people around her to be nice for her to keep functioning. I might have had less fun in the meantime, but when bad stuff did happen, I was strong enough to handle it.

"Al, that's adorable." Sera said with a grin, and Albus shot me a look; I hadn't just gotten a scrape, the look seemed to say. But I smirked up at him, turning to put a hand on his chest, and his hand left my other hand so he could slip his arm around my waist, pulling me against him. I looked up at him, once again wondering what the hell we were playing at.

"I'm not that bad…" James grumbled, forcing my gaze to flick to him.

"You rotated out of the Quidditch game when Sera got hurt." I pointed out, and he glared at me as Sera and Albus laughed. I turned my smirk onto him, and he looked away after just a moment, rolling his eyes.

"Albus didn't catch the snitch last game against Slytherin because you were snogging your boyfriend." James muttered back. Albus, beside me, stiffened, and I swallowed as the perfect feeling that had been swirling around us ebbed away. I hated James for a second—how dare he make things awkward when Albus had done so _freaking_ well out there. When I was so comfortable, Al's arm around my waist.

"Oh, takes a big man to tear down his little brother for making a mistake." I murmured, my eyes narrowed. James held my gaze for a moment, his brown eyes flashing for a second as he regarded me.

"That was more of a shot at you." He said after a moment.

"James, stop." Albus murmured to his brother.

"You took a shot at me for dating a friend of yours?" I asked James. "What are you going to do to Rose?"

"I took a shot at you because when you dated one of my friends, you screwed over my little brother." James said shortly. Something Albus snapped at that.

"Stop it." Albus hissed at James, his arm dropping from around my waist as he took a step towards his brother; James leaned forward in his seat, his eyebrows raised in a challenge to his little brother. "It's one thing to say something to me, I don't give a damn about that." Albus growled; James seemed put-off by the fact that Albus hadn't immediately backed down after the first warning. "But stay the fuck away from Molly." He growled. James didn't respond, and Albus glared. Finally, James raised his eyebrows, but nodded once. Albus turned away from us and cut behind me, shoving his way back into the crowd. I inhaled shortly, turning back to James.

"You're an asshole." I told him shortly.

"You are too." He retorted, unbothered by my words.

"James." Sera said, sounding shocked as she straightened up, then she winced, pressing a hand to her ribs. "You're being ridiculous—"

"No, Sera, it's fine." I murmured. "He's not wrong." I turned to James. "I may be a bitch, or an asshole, or whatever I'm getting called this week, but I only get this way when someone attacks me or mine." I flickered a small smile at him, but it was ice cold. "And tonight, Albus did something really amazing, and all he got from his big brother was a "good job" before you went on to take shots and him and me." I raised my eyebrows. "Who do you think is worse?" James frowned at me, but said nothing, so I turned away from him, walking into the crowd to find Albus.

I slipped past several kids, including Fred who was talking to a fourth year girl who looked thoroughly frightened of me, but he slung his arm around my shoulders and grinned at me despite her presence. "Miss Molly—where are you going?" He asked me.

"Going to find Albus." I said with a tight smile to him. "James is in fine form tonight." The words, sarcastic and angry, bit out of me before I could stop them; Fred's grin faded a little.

"Need help?" He asked. I shook my head.

"Thanks." I said, shrugging a little. "I handled it."

"Of course you did." Fred said, chuckling. "James is in one piece?" He checked.

"Only because Sera was there and I feel like Voldemort every time I do something mean in front of her." I admitted. Fred laughed, and I rolled my eyes, pulling away with a brief glare for the fourth-year. I pushed through the crowd for another few minutes, ignoring people as I tried to find Albus; finally, I concluded Albus was not still in the Common Room. I pushed through one of the doors that went to an abandoned hallway in Gryffindor tower, jogging down the stairs to where I had a hunch Albus would be.

I stepped off the final step, spotting Albus leaning against a window sill; I crossed to him, stopping in front of him. Albus glanced up at me, his gaze dark. "Your brother is an asshole." I told him after a moment. "You played incredibly out there."

"He's just mad 'cause Sera got hurt." Al murmured, his gaze sliding down to the floor, away from me and the truth I spoke. "He's always like that when she's hurt." He said softly. I stayed silent, letting him drag his own gaze back up to meet mine; I saw the anguish on his face, and it made my stomach hurt. "That used to confuse me—especially because when there was the whole ordeal with her grandmother, Sera got hurt all the time. The year before I started Hogwarts, she was always getting hurt and James would just storm around in the _worst _mood. And I thought, why wouldn't he get used to it?" He smiled weakly, as if asking for forgiveness. "I get it, now." He murmured. There was a pause. "Molly, you didn't argue with what Rose said this morning." His voice was soft.

"I did too—" I began crossly.

"No, not the—not the mean part. Not the hypocrisy part—you argued with that." Albus said, his voice still soft—he sounded sad. Or maybe worried. It made me nervous. "You didn't argue that you practically cheated on Rory. She listed twelve million examples—you dumping him because he wanted you to stop…stop talking to me, being the chief one." He paused, staring at me, and I bit my lip, crossing my arms over my chest as if that could stop us from going down the road that Albus was dragging me down, here. "You didn't argue that you did all of that." Albus fell silent for a moment, leaving space for me to protest what he was saying; I couldn't or maybe just didn't. "Which stands to reason, it's true. You meant to choose me. You meant to ditch Rory. But you still dated him." Albus left room for argument again, and I didn't. "What are you doing, Molly?" His voice was slow and soft. "I'm tired of playing this game. I can't stand to see you hurt, I can't stand to see you with another guy—not even Mikey, and Merlin knows he gave you up in a heartbeat when I told him to piss off." I winced, lifting a hand to push my hair out of my face. "You know where I stand." His gaze didn't move from my face. "Where do you stand?"

I felt my stomach plunge. I had choices here. Albus was giving me the perfect out. The same way that Rory had given me the perfect out, two months ago, when he'd asked me to choose. I could have chosen no one and walked away, then. But I chose Albus. I'd wanted him then.

And I wanted him now.

I reached out, grabbed Al's hand, and pulled him up, forcing him to stand independent of the wall, and then I stood on tip-toe, slipping an arm around his neck and pulling his head down to mine, covering his lips with mine. I felt an explosion somewhere in my brain, and I felt my heartbeat triple, and I forced myself to pull away after only a moment. I look up at him, taking a shaky breath. "I stand with you." I said after a moment, and then I let my arm slip from around his neck, backing up a step. Albus was watching me with a kind of delighted shock. His lips had curled into a small smile, his eyes wide, and I bit my lip, then turned away from him. I walked to the stairs, then let myself speed up, until I was taking them three at a time. I tore through the Common Room to the girls' dormitory staircase, then took those up three at a time again, and I didn't stop until I got to the fifth-year girls' dorms. I slipped into my empty dormitory and shut the door behind me, before I turned and pressed my back to the door, my head spinning.

I'd kissed Albus Potter.

* * *

Three hours later, my hair carefully curled and pulled back from my face, my make-up freshly done and preserved with a clever charm from Witch Weekly, my high heels making me hugely unstable, I stepped into the Common Room. The dance had started an hour ago, and the Common Room was mostly empty; the boys had stayed late at the party that was in their honor, and then taken extra time getting ready. I'd been hiding in the dormitory since I'd kissed Albus, hoping for a letter from Nate or something to distract me. But no word from my family, and I'd been left alone with my thoughts about Albus.

I straightened as I saw Albus leaning beside the wall beside the portrait hole, but I let my arms swing at my sides; I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing I was now nervous. He grinned at me all the same, though, straightening up himself; he was in very nice dress robes, ones that were black and not too feminine, though I had to admit, dress robes made even the most handsome look sort of ridiculous.

"Hey." Albus said as I walked up.

"Hey." I echoed, stopping about a foot from him, my gaze meeting his fearlessly.

"You look amazing." He told me with a smirk.

"Thanks," I said carefully.

"So." Albus said after a second, his grin returning full force. I winced in preparation for what he was about to say; I knew he was about to go to what had happened that afternoon. "You kissed me." Knew it. I glared up at Albus.

"That makes it sound like I took advantage of you." I muttered, my eyes narrowing still further.

"I mean, you did." Albus said, still grinning. "I asked you a question. And you kissed me." HE paused. "And then answered it. Stands to reason that maybe I just—" I dropped my gaze from Albus, beginning to pass him, and his hand shot out, grabbing mine. I glanced up at him sharply as he pulled me back towards him gently; I let him. "Hey, I'm kidding." Al said lightly to me.

"Good." I muttered, working my jaw. I stared up at Albus, my blue gaze boring into his green one, and I sighed, letting myself relax a little; Albus's arm slipped around my waist as he pulled me against him, and I felt a small smile work its way onto my face against my will.

"Calm down." Albus murmured to me, lifting a hand to push a few stray hairs out of my face; I was surprised by the tenderness of the gesture. "This is just a dance. It won't eat you."

"You don't know that," I murmured after a moment.

"I do." Albus assured me. "Fred went down a while ago and then came back up to tell me to hurry. He came and went and wasn't eaten."

"Hmm…." I smiled at Albus. "I suppose we should go then. If I won't get eaten _and _Fred is down there…"

"I mean, yes." Albus paused. "And you're going as my date. Just clarifying that." His words were awkward and mistimed and adorable, in a way that I would not have tolerated from anyone else.

"You're going as my boyfriend." I said, my voice lightly mocking, but there was a light question in the words; I was not a girl who kissed guys and then ran away. I needed to make sure Al knew this was not a one-night thing. "Just clarifying that." Al grinned, and I rose on tip-toe to kiss him lightly before I pulled away, grabbing his hand and pulling him out the portrait hole.

A minute later, we turned onto the hallway of the Great Hall. There were a few kids standing in front of the huge archway, but one girl specifically caught my eye; Celia Goyle, in a dark red dress with a black clutch in her hands, was standing in front of it nervously.

"Did they ever nail you for turning her into scale-girl?" I asked Albus in a murmur, and he grinned, shaking his head. I chuckled as we approached, and Celia caught sight of us. Her eyes narrowed angrily at Albus for a moment before she looked at me, her gaze serious, but, for once, not angry.

"Molly." She said lowly as she approached us in front of the archway, then glanced at Albus. "Pothead." Albus, looking unimpressed, nodded to her. She looked at our hands. "Oh, the tabloids are true, you two are together…"

"Fuck off, Celia." I murmured.

"I wanted to talk to you about that, Molls." She said with a sarcastic tone and smile. She dropped both when she glanced with a glare to Albus. "Privately."

I eyed Celia; she didn't look particularly angry at me, though there was a flash of something in her eyes. I decided to take my chances. "Go inside." I told Albus after a moment. "Go find Fred and Maia—I'll be inside in a sec." I told him. I saw a brief look of confusion, but Al released my hand reluctantly, passing Celia with an irritated expression as he walked into the Great Hall.

"What do you want?" I said to Celia. She stepped forward, opening her clutch and pulling out an envelope, holding it out to me. I took it from her, looking at it for a moment, then looked back to her.

"Read it." She urged.

"What is it?" I asked.

"A letter." She drawled. "I realize that the girl whose family kicked her out might not get letters, but I assumed you'd at least be able to recognize one…"

"Tell me what this is or I'm throwing it out and going into the dance." I said firmly. "I'm not in the mood for this right now. I'm having my first good day in like four months." Celia watched me for a moment.

"I'm about to ruin that." She admitted, nodding to the letter. "That's the most recent letter from the source—who is NOT me—to Rita Skeeter. You need to read it." I frowned at her, before I turned the envelope over in my hands and opened it; it was sealed tightly. I pulled out the paper inside, unfolding it. I didn't even get through reading the date before I felt a dizzy feeling swamp me as I recognized the handwriting. _Dear Rita, _the letter began, her hand writing as familiar to me as my own. I skimmed the letter anyway, phrases standing out to me. _Her dad meant to hurt her, this time…her little brother had to patch her up… she broke her wand_. I felt sick to my stomach as I got to the signature at the end of the letter.

_Sincerely, Rose Weasley_

_To be continued…_

* * *

**A/N: **Do you hate me? I know you do. Don't worry, part 2 will be up in a few days. Keep in mind though...more reviews=less time between postings. :) Don't worry, though, I won't actually ration my chapters until you guys review. I just really like reviews.

Also, Molly's dress and Rose's dress are on my profile.

To my lovely, lovely, lovely, reviewers, who are all incredibly loyal:

Alicecullenisrealinmyworld

HGromanticsap

Angel2u

Studygirl10

NotADreamYetNotANightmare

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SpencerReidFan89

Allen Pitt

Hushpuppy22


	21. Don't Trust Me, Part 2

Don't Trust Me, Part 2

_Black dress with the tights underneath,  
I got the breath of the last cigarette on my teeth,  
And she's an actress, but she ain't got no need  
She's got money from her parents in a trust fund back east...  
Bruises cover your arms,  
Shaking in the fingers with the bottle in your palm,  
And the best is, no one knows who you are,  
Just another girl, alone at the bar.  
Don't trust a whore, Never trust a whore,  
Won't trust a whore,  
Don't trust me._

_-3Oh!3_

_Sincerely, Rose Weasley_.

The words emptied every other thought in my brain, my stomach rolling and knotting, a headache exploding at my temples. I felt dizzy, my mouth dry, a lump in my throat rising until I could barely breathe. Rose.

"This is fake," I said harshly, my voice hoarse, glancing up at Celia. She didn't say anything, just met my gaze evenly. I looked back down at the letter, before I took my wand from the clutch in my hand, handing the purse to Celia. I tapped the paper sharply; nothing happened. Oh, God.

I swallowed, my wand in my hand falling to my side. Then I closed my eyes, ducking my head as I felt the lump in my throat get still larger. My eyes were burning. This wasn't happening. Rose was the source. Oh, God. It made so much sense. The letter Rose had been writing on Saturday hadn't been to her parents—that was why she'd covered it with a book when I'd entered the dormitory. And…oh, God. Looking back, it was so obvious. Rose had been getting crazier—that happened, when Rose felt guilty. Rather than apologize, she marched around in a crazy, awful mood. I did the math quickly in my head: the first story had come out days after Rose and I made up from that argument we'd had about Rory. She would have had to be Rita Skeeter's source back when we'd still been fighting. But even with all those facts—the ones that made so much sense, the ones that convicted her—I still had a question.

How could she have done this?

I was her best friend. I was her cousins' best friend. Her parents had custody of me and my little brother. Jesus. Rose had destroyed everything. Panic swamped me, suddenly: Rose had destroyed _everything_. I had no home but hers, even if I was refusing it. I was homeless, again. And we were roommates. I had to see her. In my room, in my classes.

How could she have done this?

I pulled away from Celia, feeling dizzy and teary as I walked unsteadily towards the Great Hall. There was a rushing sound in my ears and my head was pounding and I realized, distantly, that I should have cared that I, Molly Gale, was close to tears. Then I realized, with more than a healthy dose of bitterness, that I had nothing left to lose. It didn't matter if I cried.

Albus, Fred, and Maia were just inside the door with Liam and Hayley Sparks. I walked up to Al and Fred, biting my lip as I felt desperation race in my veins; this was bad. Everything was gone.

"Molly?" Albus's voice was stark and confused, and the first thing to cut through the rushing in my ears. I glanced up at him, and I saw the shock register on his face; my eyes were too shiny, filled with tears that hadn't yet spilled over. "Are you…_crying_?" He asked a beat later, his eyebrows drawing together in concern. I just ducked my head. I couldn't tell them. If I did, I'd lose them. I heard vague chatter around my head as I stopped listening; after a few moments, though, Fred's voice returned to my consciousness.

"What's wrong with her?" Fred's voice was urgent, and I felt my gaze drift out of focus as I lifted my head and looked past the boys—I had to find Rose. I had to find out how she could have done this to me.

"Love what is wrong?" Albus's hand cupped my cheek as he tried to capture my attention; I glanced up at him, and the first tear finally spilled over, tracking down my cheek. Al wiped it away with his thumb. "Molly," Al's voice was serious bordering on panicked, "you have to tell me—"

"Rose is the _Prophet_ source." I said hoarsely, and everyone stopped. The words hurt me to say, but they were true, so I looked past them again, feeling oddly numb as my tears paused, my eyes still watery. I couldn't look at them—I couldn't look at Albus's face. Rose hadn't only betrayed me. She'd betrayed him. She'd betrayed all of us.

My gaze slid over the room, before I spotted Rose with Rory, after a moment. She was laughing and touching his arm lightly; he was grinning at her. It suddenly occurred to me: Rose had lied. Rory had told the truth. It had been _Rose _who asked Rory to the dance. It had been Rose that had lied to me to hurt me. To fool me into thinking that I'd been used yet again to get to her.

How could she have done this?

I crossed the dance floor, my unsteady heels making me stumble once, but I didn't care, moving forward and pushing past people. Rose only looked up at me when I got to a few feet from her, when it was unavoidable that I was standing there. She stared at me for a second, her smile dying on her lips.

"You're the source." I said rawly, my eyes burning once more; beside her, Rory's gaze snapped to me sharply. I glanced at him, and his eyes widened; there was no way I was lying. Rory took a step back from Rose, who looked at him sharply.

"No, it's—Rory, it's Celia," She said pleadingly. She looked back to me. "It's Celia." She told me, her voice louder, as if that would make it true.

"No." My voice was shaking, badly, but I didn't care anymore. I didn't have a single thing left to lose. Not even my pride. Because that had shattered the moment I realized how wrong I'd been about Rose. "No, you're the source." Rose stared at me, her eyes getting shinier. She was going to cry. "I _know_ you're the source." My voice cracked. "I have the letter you wrote to Rita Skeeter—" I held up the paper in my hand; my hand was shaking too. I was half-way gone already, but I couldn't get enough of a handle on the facts before me to be able to take charge of my reaction. "The one you wrote on Saturday. You—you told me you were writing your parents." I took a panicked breath in through my nose, the roaring in my ears returning full force. Rose was just staring at me, and I found myself getting frustrated with the panic racing across her features, the way she was running her hand through her hair. How dare she be panicked? I was the one whose best friend had betrayed her. "How—" My voice broke midway through the question, "how could you do this to me, Rosie?"

Silence.

The silence was so deep, so smothering, that I realized, even past the rushing in my ears that made me feel sick, the kids around us had fallen silent. The silence was spreading, too; it was getting quieter and quieter, and I heard teachers—who were on their dais, surveying the dance—asking what was happening. It made me want to gag, made me want to shake someone, made me awnt to scream. I couldn't fix this. I could fix my parents, I could fix my siblings, I could fix Albus and Fred and everyone else.

_I had no plan_.

This was not on the Molly Gale list of anticipated disasters. This didn't exist. This had never been a hypothetical situation, this had never been a nightmare, because this _was not an option_. I wasn't strong enough for this. Thus, I couldn't fathom what exactly it was I was supposed to do should it occur. If I'm not strong enough, than whatever I do won't matter.

"I'm sorry." She said to me, after a moment, her voice higher than it should have been; it was shaking, just like mine.

"But how could you do this to me?" I repeated hoarsely, staring at Rose. She'd pushed me to this breaking point. Surely I got a response from her regarding the motive.

I heard, behind me, Albus and Fred push to the front of the crowd around us; Rory was standing a few feet from Rose, having edged towards me until there was a triangle around us. Albus and Fred's voices were saying something me but there was a haze—a panicked, angry haze that had pushed everything else out. I couldn't hear anything but Rose, couldn't see anyone but Rose. Couldn't feel anything but Rose's overwhelming betrayal. How could she have done this to me?

"I…" Rose began, before she bit her lip, her tears spilling over and leaking down her face. Then she just gestured to Rory. I glanced at him, and he looked back at me; he had no idea what was happening. I looked back to Rose. "You took Rory." She said softly.

Rory.

My mind spun. Rory. Surely…Rory couldn't be this? I closed my eyes, ducking my head and pressing my hand to my forehead, trying to remain upright. She meant I'd dated Rory. Past that, the only thing I could think of was the fact that Rory had been one of the few eligible bachelors at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry that had not had the privilege of dating Rose.

Rose had never dated Rory. She dated everyone. Everyone but Scorpius, whom she liked. She didn't date boys she genuinely like—too many emotions, too messy.

I remembered, suddenly, something from September first, when we were on our way to Hogwarts; Rose had been talking to Rory and mentioned Albus, and then told me she was doing me a huge favor by making him jealous. No. She'd been trying to discourage Rory from dating me. She'd probably started the conversation to flirt. And it'd turned to me and in her effort to turn Rory off of me, she'd laid the groundwork for the cheating accusations. And then, later on—what Liam had said. Rose had purposely talked about Albus and me in front of Rory. And if Rory had been worried before, with confirmation from my best friend, it would have seemed probable that I was cheating on him. More than probable. Definite. Oh, Fuck.

"You broke us up." I realized after a moment. Rose said nothing. I felt something like panic well in my stomach as I felt my hot tears start up again; they just kept spilling more and more. "You—my best friend—broke us up." I swallowed. My brain was swirling—I wasn't calm enough to figure out what was happening, here. "This was about a _boy_?" I asked after a moment, my whisper low and scandalized. "We've been best friends for five years and you let that go because of a _boy_."

Rose was still just watching me tearfully, and then she shrugged a little, as if helpless. "I liked him." She said helplessly. I shook my head at this realization, my head spinning. I felt myself take a step backwards, then another, and then I turned, starting towards the door, my arms wrapped defensively around myself.

"Molly, wait—" Rose said tearfully behind me; I ignored her, staying en route towards the door. I was going to flip out—I felt it coming on, I always could. That sort of crazy, nothing-left-to-lose feeling in my stomach, the tears in my eyes. The pandic that had seized me the second I figured out that Rose was the source and hadn't let go since. I had to get out of here before I snapped. But then she said the words that pushed me over the edge. "Molly, no, don't do this."

I felt the sadness, the hurt, the betrayal, turn to anger in a heartbeat.

I spun around suddenly, hate on my face and in my voice as my tears thickened. "_No_!" I spat at her, starting towards her angrily. "I am not doing _anything_!" My words were scathing and tear-laden. I saw, in my peripheral vision, Albus stare at me. He'd never seen me this angry. I'd cried when Dad kicked me out. He'd seen that, and I guess that would be traumatizing. But this? This was a disaster. "_You did this! _You did this _to me_!" I sobbed, pushing my hair out of my face. "I was your _best friend_ and because you ended up liking the boy I was dating, you _destroyed me_!" The words tore from me in a panic. "My new boyfriend is your _cousin_—your date is my ex-boyfriend—your parents are supposed to be raising my brother and me—you are my best friend and my roommate—you have taken _all _of that from me!" I sobbed, pressing my hand over my mouth as I stared at Rose tearfully; she was crying hard, now, too. This was a disaster, but she had done it. "I have _nothing, _Rose. Nothing. I don't even have a place to fucking live—" I swiped at my cheeks as my voice dropped, my tears thickening. "Your parents have no desire to be raising me, and I get that." I pushed my hair out of my face. "But I thought I had you on my side." I swallowed, staring at Rose.

"I'm on your side—" She tried, her voice pathetic and weepy.

"_No you're not!"_ I said desperately. "I am having the worst year of my _life _here, Rose! I am trying—_trying so fucking hard_—to keep my head above water! I do not have the—mental strength—to juggle you and your crazy and how _incredibly frustrating _you are because I have siblings and an abusive father and a mum who just cries in the corner instead of helping her kids!" I sobbed. "I can't—can't pull you up _too_! I can't do it!"

I stopped talking, and Rose sobbed as we both stopped, staring at each other. My arms crossed against my chest defensively, tears running down both of our faces. She'd destroyed us.

Longbottom fought his way to the front of the crowd around us, and I glanced up at him as Rose wailed softly, lifting her hands to cover her face; apparently the appearance of her pseudo-uncle was too much. "What the hell is going on?" Longbottom demanded lowly, striding from where the crowd ended to where Rose, Rory and I were standing. I said nothing, and Longbottom looked at Rory. "Someone tell me what's happening." Rose sobbed, and Professor Longbottom glanced at her sharply. "Now."

"It's not mine to tell, Professor." Rory murmured.

"Someone has to explain it." Longbottom said firmly, turning to me; I saw the boys, who we. "Miss Gale." He said after a moment, his voice gentler; I looked up at him, tears still coursing down my face. "Oh, dear. " He murmured, seemingly having just realized I was crying. "Alright, let's move this to my office—Mr. Corner, Miss. Weasley, Miss Gale…" there was a moment of hesitation, before he gestured to Al and Fred, both of whom were standing ten feet from me, looking angrier than I'd ever seen either one of them. "Are they involved?" He asked Rose, Rory and I. Longbottom wasn't stupid. He'd seen Fred, Al and I all year; anything I was involved in, they inserted themselves into.

"Yes." Albus said firmly, stepping forward; I looked to him and he met my gaze seriously, my eyes boring into his. I wanted to go back to ten minutes ago, when all that had existed was this dance and Albus and me. But that wasn't an option.

"Alright, you two too." Longbottom said. "My office. Now."

I swiped at my eyes with shaking fingers as I turned towards the door; the silent crowd of kids parted, looking away embarrassedly at being caught watching us. I just kept my gaze on the floor, stepping forward unsteadily; when I was almost out the door, my shoe shifted and I almost fell, but Al's arm slipped around my waist, catching me effortlessly and keeping me up. I glanced up at him, miserably. Albus looked just as miserable.

This was a disaster.

* * *

Ten minutes later, the Potters, both sets of the Weasleys, and Rory's dad were standing in Longbottom's office with Rory, Rose, Fred, Albus, and I. Everyone had gotten here without much fuss, and proceeded to be confused and alarmed the moment that they'd realized that Rose was sobbing into her hands, and I still had tears streaking down my face. Fred and Al had sandwiched me between them protectively, and Al had given me his jacket, because I was cold and this dress wasn't exactly covering a lot of me. But now Albus had his elbows on his knees, his hands folded, while he glared at the ground. Rose's betrayal was hard for me. But for Albus…Rose was like Nate was for me. I felt terrible for him, in the inch of myself that I hadn't already given to feeling terrible about Rose.

The adults couldn't seem to decide who had done what wrong, and they shifted nervously in silence behind their children before Fred's dad was finally the first to speak. "So, kid," Fred's dad began in an easy-going voice. "As much as I love standing in Neville's office with half my relatives wondering exactly where my parenting skills went wrong…" He walked around the couch that Fred, Al and I were on, crouching down in front of Fred. "Why are we here?" Fred didn't look at his dad, instead glancing at me, his face hardening as he met my teary gaze. He glanced past me to Albus, then down.

"No one will tell me." Longbottom murmured, his gaze flicking from kid to kid; Mr. Weasley rose, looking shaken at his son's reaction. He strode back around the chair, walking behind us, and I saw, in my peripheral vision, him exchange looks with his wife. I glanced back to Longbottom; his gaze was on Rory and Rose. "Miss Weasley, Mr. Corner—you're both prefects. I expect better behavior from both of you. Tell me what's going on."

"It's not mine to tell." Rory insisted lowly, looking over at me. I met his gaze evenly.

"Then Miss Weasley." Longbottom said firmly. Rose didn't look up, still sobbing into her hands, and I felt my own tears thicken. I hadn't stopped crying yet. I couldn't. Not with Rose still so close, not with Albus's new-found lost temper. "Miss Weasley, please." Longbottom said, his voice gentler. "We can't fix this if we don't know what's happening."

"Rose," I finally said hoarsely, looking up at my ex-best friend; Rose sobbed, but lifted her face to look at me. I felt my voice shake and break; my tears thickened, and I lifted a hand to swipe at them. "Rose, tell them!" I insisted.

"Stop it." Mrs. Weasley snapped at me, her voice harsh and her eyes angry; I spared her half a glance, but I didn't care. She didn't want me. She'd never wanted me. I had nothing to lose with her.

"Rose, tell them!" I said again, but my voice broke off at the end of the sentence; I lifted a hand to press to my mouth. "Tell them what you did." I whispered.

"Molly!" Mrs. Weasley's voice was loud, almost a shout, and this time I looked up at her, tears running down my face. There was no sympathy there, though. "I am _tired _of this behavior!" She said angrily, stepping towards me. "You don't get to talk to _me_ that way, not to my _husband_, and certainly not to my _daughter_—" She took another step forward and I flinched backwards, more out of reflex than anything else. Dad yelled, he lashed out. So I flinched when people yelled at me. And that made everyone shut up.

"Hermione." Rose's dad said lowly, after a moment. "Don't yell at her."

"It's fine." I murmured, dropping my gaze. "She never wanted me." I felt a small, bitter smile work its way on to my face. "I get it. She's not the first." The silence that met my words was enough to confirm their truth, and I looked up at her fiercely. "But just because I'm the worst fucking kid to get stuck with doesn't mean I'm wrong."

"You're not the worst kid to get stuck with." Albus said harshly, looking up at me; I thought his eyes were red-rimmed like he was as near to breaking point as I was, but I might have been wrong. He looked past me after a moment, to his aunt. "And just for the record, Aunt Hermione, she's _really _not. You're just a really, really bad guardian."

"Albus." Mr. Potter scolded, frowning at his son. Albus twisted to look back at his father, disbelief on his face, but I reached over, putting a gentle hand on his arm; Al's gaze flicked to me. I met his gaze, my misery clear on my face; he stared at me for a long moment, then shook his head, falling silent. My hand slipped down his arm to grab his hand, and he wrapped both his hands around mine, lifting it to his lips; I ducked my head as he brushed his lips against my knuckles. I wasn't sure how Albus and I had gone from our new relationship to this level of tenderness. But we were here.

"Alright." Longbottom said tiredly, and I looked up at him in time to see him looking at Albus and I curiously; one of Al's hand released mine, until it was just one hand holding mine. "I appreciate that mistakes have been made, and they're worth discussing. But right now, we're here to discuss whatever happened in the Great Hall."

Silence again, and I heard Mr. Potter sigh. Finally Albus looked up angrily at Rose; I tightened my grip on his hand. "You're such a fucking coward, Rose." Albus murmured. Rose sobbed into her hands.

"Albus!" Mrs. Potter said angrily. Albus didn't even look at his dad.

"I mean—Jesus, Rose. When we were sorted, I thought I was the one that didn't belong in Gryffindor." Albus's voice was rough and angry; I felt a new wave of tears swim in my eyes, but I blinked them away. "You were brave. And outgoing. And you cared about everyone that set foot within twenty feet of you." He paused. "I've never been so wrong." Rose sobbed again, and Fred cursed under his breath, running a hand through his scarlet hair. Albus stopped, shaking his head. "How could you do this to Molly? And what about Fred? And me? We're all in the papers."

"That's not Rose's fault." Mrs. Weasley murmured.

"Yes, it is." Fred murmured calmly, looking up at Mrs. Weasley. "I'm sorry, Aunt Hermione. I get why you're confused. We are too. And she's our best friend." Fred shook his head. "Rose betrayed us."

"Oh, no." Longbottom murmured, glancing from us to Rose, realization all over his face; I felt my tears return, full force as they rolled down my face, and I ducked my head, swiping at them; Al released my hand to smooth a hand over my hair, and I glanced at him miserably. Longbottom finally understood. "I thought it was Celia." He continued after a moment.

"So did we." Albus murmured, his voice harsh.

"Thought _who_ was Celia?" Rose's dad demanded. "Who is Celia?"

"Celia Goyle—she's a Slytherin girl who has it out for Molly since her dad and Molly fought when Cormac played a prank on her brother." Longbottom murmured.

"Goyle?" Fred's dad caught the last name and hung onto it, looking at me. "You fought with Gregory Goyle?" Fred's dad asked me, and I glanced up at him tiredly.

"He called her a Mudblood." Albus murmured, lifting his gaze to meet his uncle's.

"He did _what_?"

"I called him a name first." I muttered.

"Only because he called Cormac—something, I don't really remember—"

"Will someone explain to me what the hell is going on?" Fred's mum said irritatedly. "Because it _sounds_ like—"

"Rose is the _Prophet _source." I heard my voice, hoarse and loud and raw, say aloud. I kept my gaze on Rose, refusing to look at the adults. I couldn't see the Weasleys' faces. I couldn't see their expressions as they learned Rose was a traitor. "She wrote to Rita Skeeter, several times. Told her all about my life." I pushed my hair out of my face. "Told her about my dad." I swallowed.

"Oh, Rosie…" Rose's dad murmured, and Rose sobbed, ducking her head.

"I'll admit it though," I said, my voice getting higher and tighter as I stared across the room at Rose's weeping figure. "The thing that gets me—the thing that gets me _every single time_ I think about it—is _why _she did it." I felt that scary smile—the one with the anger and the panic and the bitterness—unfurl across my face. But finally, the anger returned, full force, and I grabbed it and ran with it. "Guess. I dare you." I said, looking up at Mrs. Weasley. "I dare you to guess why Rose did this to us." I repeated. Silence invaded us again, but this time it threatened to strangle me, so I plowed on. "Rose liked _Rory_." I glanced pointedly to the boy sitting between Fred and Rose. "Even though he was my boyfriend. And she encouraged me to date him. And never ever once said anything along the lines of _I love Rory so piss off_." I looked back to Rose; the moment my eyes landed on her, I felt my tears thicken. "So rather than talk to me, she convinced my boyfriend I was cheating on him, and blabbed to the press." I felt my anger ebb away, despite my desperate attempt to hold on to it; instead, I was just left, still talking, emotion thickening my words and making them dangerous. "I think by the end," My voice was trembling, "you convinced yourself that I really had cheated." I swallowed. "But I never did."

"You've liked Albus since summer, Molly." Rose said to me, her voice caught between angry and distraught. "That's practically cheating—"

"No, it's not." Rory murmured. Everyone glanced at Rory; they were the first words he'd said since admitting that this was not his battle. And he was really the person who decided what was true, here; I was theoretically the cheater. If he said I didn't cheat, then I hadn't cheated. "Molly told me she didn't cheat and I should have believed her." He paused. "But it's ironic that you don't know the definition of cheating, when you have cheated on practically every boy in this school." Rose looked hurt, her glance flying to Albus, Fred and me. We used to defend her against that type of charge, despite the truth of it. Now we'd left her to the wolves.

But she'd done it first.

"Alright." Albus's mum was the first one to recover from this news. "Let's—Molly and Cormac should _not _be spending break with Rose. Let's start there." She said softly. I turned to glance up at her. "I would suggest our house, but Ron and Hermione traditionally spend the holiday with us." She paused. "Also, I'm under the impression you're in a relationship with my son. So you sleeping over at our house would be…" She let her voice drift off. "Irresponsible."

"You let Sera stay." Albus muttered angrily.

"James is about as touchy-feely as a porcupine." Mrs. Potter told her son wryly. "I'm not too worried."

"She and Cormac can stay with us." Fred's dad said firmly.

"It's fine. Cormac is staying with friends." I murmured, glancing up at him. "And I can stay at the Leakey Cauldron."

"I thought you were both going home for Christmas." Rose's mum said softly. I glanced up at her quickly; she looked sad. Just impossibly sad. Another consequence of letting Molly Gale within ten feet of you; I tore people up, destroyed families. Nate and I were now pulling our friends' families down with us, though.

"Dad's gotten worse." I murmured tonelessly, my gaze dropping to the ground.

"How much worse?" Mr. Potter asked me worriedly. I bit my lip, glaring at the ground. I hated this. I hated that these people wanted information when I so obviously had none—I hated it.

"Last weekend," I said carefully, not allowing myself to look at Longbottom; he was going to be mad, "I went home to tell Dad that I couldn't send Cormac home for break. I lied to Professor Longbottom, said I was going to Cal's soccer game." I bit the inside of my mouth, forcing myself to keep everything very cut and dry. "I argued with Dad—he said he was going to charge me for kidnapping if I didn't send Cormac home, and I told him about how he didn't even have custody anymore—he—" My voice broke off. I rubbed my forehead. "Long story short, I fell backwards down some stairs, hit my head, scraped up my arms, and broke my wand." I looked up at Mr. Potter, twisting to look at him. "I haven't heard from Nate and the twins since."

"Do you think they're okay?" Mr. Potter asked, looking deeply worried now; I swallowed.

"Nate can take care of himself." I said, the only response I could give. Because even though I knew—_I knew_—that Nate could take care of himself, I had no idea whether he was okay. That was what was wrong with my family. Even self-sufficiency wasn't enough to protect you.

"Your mum will take care of them." Rose's mum said, and I shot her a brief, disbelieving glare, before I glared back at the ground.

"Do you think I got here, sitting in this room with adults I don't know trying to figure out where I'm supposed to live, with a mum who cares about what the fuck I'm doing?" I asked after a moment.

"We can have this talk in a few days. At the house." Mr. Weasley said firmly, then he ran his hand over his red hair. "Molly will spend break with us, Cormac will spend break at his friends'." There was a beat of silence as he let that go. "In the meantime—Neville, can the kids go? It's been a long day for them, it sounds like. They could use some rest back in the dormitories." I swallowed, looking down. I had to sleep in the same room as Rose tonight.

"Sure." Longbottom said tiredly. "Don't go back to the dance though—there's a fair amount of kids who would love to question you lot." I nodded once; that had never been part of the plan. Fred, beside me, loosened his tie; I reached down, rubbing my sore ankles. This dance had been an ill-fated plan; I was not the type of girl who attended dances, and Fred and Albus were not dress-up-and-play-it-sweet types. We couldn't have predicted how wrong this had gone, though.

Fred got up first, exhaustedly; he turned and offered me a hand up. I took it, letting him pull me up, before I looked back to Albus. He was still glaring at the ground. I opened and closed my fist, before I held out my hand for him. I was not the kind of person that offered people a hand up. But Albus was Albus. And as much as I was hurting, he was too. Rose was his best friend. Rose was my best friend.

Albus looked up at me, his eyes dark, then looked at my hand. After a moment of uncomfortable contemplation, he took it, and I pulled him up; once he was up, he kept a hold of my hand, and I leaned against his arm, letting him hold me up for a second. This had been the worst day that I'd maybe ever had. Including Dad kicking me out. Because with my dad—he was the devil I knew. Rose, on the other hand…she'd imploded like a super nova and was dragging Fred, Al and I into her newly formed black hole.

Albus glanced up at his parents, before pressed his lips together in a tight-lipped smile. "See you tomorrow." He murmured, and then started towards the door; I followed him, Fred in our wake. Their parents spilled out after us, and Albus and I only got halfway down the hall before my high heels, the ones that had been unstable all night, finally gave out from under me; Al caught my waist in a heartbeat, keeping me upright. Fred slipped in front of us, turning to look at us as I glared down at my shoe.

"Great." I muttered, swallowing the unreasonable tears in my eyes as I reached down to grab my high heel, pulling it off my foot and staring down at the broken shoe. I bit my lip, looking up at Albus. These were Rose's shoes. She'd lent them to me, and I'd broken them. "It's broken." I said with a shaky voice, and Albus ran his hand through his hair, looking down at me. "Another—fucking-broken—thing." I ground out, past the lump in my throat, as I glared down at the shoe in my hand.

"How could she do this?" Fred said lowly, and I glanced up at the boys. It was just us three, here—about twenty feet away, the adults were clustered in front of Longbottom's office; Rose was standing uncertainly beside her mother, while Rory strode in the opposite direction. Rose had done this. Rose's betrayal had done this to us. Rose had been one of us. And then she'd turned and _destroyed_ us.

"I've never hated someone I'm related to, before." Albus whispered.

"I thought…" I swallowed. "We were best friends."

Rose had destroyed us.

* * *

There is a unique painfulness to being the only person living in a dormitory meant for five. Rose had apparently decided to go home for break tonight rather than via the Hogwarts Express tomorrow, because in the time that it took me to walk back to the Dormitory, Rose's side of the room had been emptied of everything, her clothes had been packed, and her trunk had been taken away by what I could only assume were the house elves. I was now the only occupant of my room.

I stood uncertainly in my doorway, staring at the emptiness in front of me. My side of the room was always sparse, especially this year, when I hadn't been able to pack thoughtfully. Now, though. It barely looked like someone lived here. My stomach hurt at that thought—I was the transparent girl. I could be there if you wanted me, but I so often wasn't wanted that I'd long since learned to disappear at will. I could pack in a second. I could be gone in the next.

And now I wanted nothing more than to disappear.

I wanted to pack and drag my trunk to Longbottom's office and demand I be allowed to go home. The only reason I didn't was because I knew I wouldn't be long for home; Dad wouldn't let me stay. Mum would cry in the corner but say nothing. Nate would yell. And at the end of the day, it wouldn't matter. I would still get hurt. I would still have to leave.

I felt so homesick, though. I was homesick for my lack of magic. When I'd been muggle, I'd been _normal_. Dad hadn't hated me. Nate and I hadn't gone days without speaking, leading both of us to worry. I hadn't been trying to raise an eleven-year-old boy on a salary of nothing. I missed that so badly. More than I can express, I missed being part of the Gale family. But there was nothing left.

The weird thing was, there was nothing left _anywhere_. My best friend had stabbed me in the back; my new legal guardians didn't want me almost as much as my parents didn't. The Wizarding World was no better than the muggle world, despite my parading around like I was perfect and safe here. Things were bad everywhere. But the danger of the Wizarding World was that I was pulling down all these people I wasn't even related to, here. Back home, the Gale family was a spectacular implosion of disasters, but, until recently, we'd only sucked ourselves into our death spiral. Now, Mum had dragged Mr. Causer in. And here, I was sucking the Weasley Clan, in its entirety, down. Rose wasn't this person, usually. Fred and Albus had never had a family member turn on them before. I'd gotten farther into their family, and things had gotten worse. If I'd thought I was strong enough to give up Albus and Fred, I would have. But I couldn't.

I crossed to my bed, sinking down. I grabbed one of the few photographs on my bedside table—Nate and I at Mum's hospital bed, when she'd had Cormac. Mum and Dad were both beaming, and Cormac was a scrunched up little baby, and Nate was pulling my hair and I was punching his arm with a glare. It was one of my favorites—even more so than the one taken when Cal and Ellie were born. By then, I'd already started to be weird, my magic overflowing. Dad had already started to get uncomfortable with my yet-undefined magic. Here, we were just the Gales. These people were happy, with loving parents and bratty but sometimes-redeemingly-sweet children. We loved each other.

I forced myself to put the photograph back down on the table, turning it facedown. I closed my eyes, ducking my head. Those Gales, the happy Gales, were behind us. They were long gone, with their happiness and their love and their normalness. They were friends with the Roses of the world, and they were normal. They no longer existed.

All that was left was me.

* * *

The train ride back to London the next day was long and miserable. Albus, Fred and I sat with Gavin and Mikey, and, once he had abandoned the prefect car, Liam. I kept my gaze fixed out the window, watching the Scottish countryside pass me by. I couldn't listen to the inane chatter between Gavin and Mikey, or Liam's periodical angry rants, which Albus joined in on. I began to count the sheep we passed, trying my hardest not to think about Rose.

Eventually, I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, the train had started rattling more—we were pulling into London. I kept my eyes closed, knowing that we were still another 10 minutes from getting off the train and hoping to fall asleep for another ten seconds. But then the conversation caught my attention.

"You two are actually dating, now?" Liam's voice was low and serious.

Albus must have nodded, because Fred spoke next. "Took you long enough." Gavin snorted in laughter at this.

"Shut up." Albus muttered. "It's been a weird year. I didn't want to…" He stopped, sounding awkward. I swallowed.

"Were you about to say _take advantage of her_?" Fred demanded, his voice low. The silence that met his words was enough. "Have you _met_ Molly?" Fred asked, but he kept his voice quiet. "She got in a argument with a known death eater. If your dad hadn't done the job, I would peg Molly for getting rid of Voldemort. You couldn't take advantage of her if you tried."

"Rose did." Albus said darkly.

That shut Fred up, and made me wince internally, though I was careful to keep my expression clear. I didn't get taken advantage of, that much Fred had right. I was not that girl.

But Rose hadn't been that girl either.

And I think that was why Rose's betrayal hurt so much—I'd had her wrong. I didn't trust myself anymore. I saw that something was up with Rose—I did _not _see her writing letters to a reporter about me. And we were best friends, roommates. She'd used my trust—the trust I doled out _so sparingly_.

"Fuck her." Fred said suddenly, and I resisted the instinct to jump. "Forget her. We're related, but fuck that. I don't care anymore."

"Neither do I." Albus said firmly. I swallowed. They were lying. It was the same way I lied to myself, to Nate—sometimes people needed to pretend things were alright. If we pretended that Rose's betrayal didn't matter, if we pretended that we didn't care, maybe it would stop hurting quite so much. Maybe every step we took wouldn't be down the same painful road we were already halfway down. Because Rose had been family and best friend and she'd turned her back on us.

But rather than tell the boys all this, I continued to pretend to sleep.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, the boys woke me up as we pulled into Kings' Cross station. We got off the train silently, dragging our trunks after us; after Albus tripped over his, we gave up and magicked them. We made our way across the platform, spotting Fred's dad's and Al's mum's red heads near the entrance.

"Albus," Mrs. Potter said warmly as we reached them; she hugged her son, and Al hugged her back reluctantly. Fred's parents both hugged him, and I watched uncomfortably, crossing my arms against my chest.

"How was the train, guys?" Fred's dad asked, clapping his son on the back but looking up at Al and myself.

"Long." Al murmured, glancing at me. I nodded once. There were a few beats of awkward silence.

"It'll be nice to be home, though." Mrs. Weasley said, looking from Fred to me. "We made up a room for you, Molly—it's currently a light yellow, but you can change it if you want—"

"I'm only staying for a break, I thought." I murmured, frowning a little at Mrs. Weasley. That was an awful big offer for a two-week stay; I was just a visitor. They were offering me a place to stay for Christmas—just for Christmas.

"Do you have another place to go for summer break?" Mrs. Weasley asked me, her voice frank but not unkind. I stared at her. That was the heart of it, wasn't it? The Weasleys were standing here offering me a real house—some place I could leave the clothes I didn't need, and keep the things I didn't want to cart around with me. And I didn't have another place to go.

But Cormac.

"Cormac." I said after a moment, my eyes narrowed at Fred's mum.

"We'd be happy to have him." She said easily.

"For as long as I'm there?" I asked.

"For as long as he'd like." She agreed. I bit my lip. I was tired of this game—this constant running game. I didn't have Rose anymore—all I had was my screwy family, and Albus and Fred. I could use a place to live—a nice place where I didn't have to bang my head against the wall to keep my dad in line. A back up plan. This could be my back up plan.

"I…" I hesitated. This went against every single rule I had. Back up plans were not something I did. I just followed my rules. They were all I had. But Rose had proved the rules wrong. "I guess, sure." I muttered, rubbing my forehead. "I'll run it by Cory, but…it sounds…" I swallowed. What did it sound like? "Nice." I finished lamely, looking down. This made me uncomfortable. "I'll leave when I turn seventeen, take him with me." I added after a moment, my voice fast.

"We'll discuss that later." Mrs. Weasley said amiably. I glanced up at her sharply, my eyes narrowed.

"Daddy!" Lily exclaimed happily, leaping at her father and interrupting what would have been a good protest from me.

"Hey Lily bell." Mr. Potter said fondly, hugging his daughter, and I pressed my lips together, silencing myself.

"Hey Mum, Dad." James said easily as he came up, flashing his parents smiles as Lily hugged her mum. James glanced at me, nodding, and I met his gaze evenly, not reacting. We hadn't spoken since he'd acted like such an asshole to me, yesterday. But I didn't care.

"Molly?" Cormac's soft voice asked, and I turned a little, looking down at my little brother, who'd just come up beside me. He was in normal clothes, having changed out of his robes, and it was striking, now that he was standing there in his polo and jeans, that his clothes were short. Really short. I had to buy him new ones but I had no money. Great.

"Hey kiddo," I said, forcing a smile onto my face; Cormac was the only person who I felt obligated to pretend to be cheerful for. I glanced up at the Potters and the Weasleys—Mrs. Potter was watching me, and I put my hand on Cormac's back, leading him a little away from the group so we could have some privacy. Cormac seemed grateful for it; as we stopped ten feet from the group, his shoulders dropped and he looked up at me.

"Are you really spending break at the Leakey Cauldron?" Cormac asked softly. I hesitated, then shook my head.

"I'm staying with Fred and his parents." I said with a small smile. "They offered to let us stay with them for a while…" I pushed my hair out of my face, studying my little brother. "I'm taking them up on that." Cormac's expression lightened a little. "You would get your own room, they said, and I bet they'd let us change the walls if you wanted to. You could leave things there, and—"

"I thought I'd be allowed to go home eventually…" Cormac said, frowning up at me. I swallowed.

"I don't trust Dad, Cormac." I said, my voice firm. "He wanted you home for this break, and I went home to tell him that—last weekend—and Dad was pretty awful." Cormac's eyes widened. He stared at me for a moment.

"Are we ever going home?" HE asked me softly. I swallowed.

"I'm working on it, Cory." I murmured. He nodded once, watching me wearily, and I forced my smile to return. "I'll pick you up on Christmas Eve to see Cal and Ellie's pageant, okay? And I'll see you on Christmas—"

"I haven't heard from Nate in a while." Cormac muttered. I felt a wave of weariness sweep me. I didn't really have the energy to do this.

"He's been MIA with me too." I said softly. "I'm tracking him down this weekend, I swear." I told him, noting the panic that entered Cormac's expression. "Maybe I'll even bring him by the Kader's to see you—I'm sure he misses you." I let the words, comforting and fake as shit, flow off my lips with ease. I used to worry that I lied to easily about my family—when I was twelve, I'd had a crisis of conscience, believing I'd go to hell for lying to everyone about my family. It'd kept me up for entire nights. But then it'd occurred to me: all my family was, was lies. We lied to each other, we lied to other people—it was the only thing that kept the Gales all in the same house. And now we were too deep inside our own lies to stop. So I just held my breath for a moment, let it out, and kept lying. "Either way," I faked a smile, "we'll see him at the pageant." False. If I couldn't reach Nate before the pageant, I was going into full panic mode.

But I had to lie.

"Okay," Cormac said, relaxing a little. I nodded once, shoving down the inkling of guilt that made my stomach knot, and reached out and hugged him, tightly.

"Have fun with the Kaders," I murmured to my baby brother, kissing the top of his head; he hugged me back, unabashedly. "And take care of yourself, and wear two pairs of socks if you play in the snow and—"

"Molly!" Cormac groaned, pulling back, and I felt a small laugh bubble out of me. "You sound like Mum…" He said resentfully, but he was grinning up at me; I ruffled his hair. No, I didn't sound like Mum. I sounded better than Mum. And I took a lot of pride in that.

"Go have stupid fun with Roger and Neela and if you don't floocall me, I'll come and embarrass you at their house." I informed him. Cormac nodded seriously. "I'll see you on Christmas Eve at the very latest, okay?" He nodded again.

"Love you." He said after a second, his voice soft, and I ruffled his hair.

"Love you too, kiddo." I said briefly, and he nodded, then started back towards the Kaders. I watched him, making sure he got to them, before I started back to where the Potters and the Weasleys were, my stomach knotting.

Albus met me halfway, slipping his arms around my waist, and I put my hand on his chest, letting my other slip around his neck. I looked up at him, my expression serious; Albus looked angry.

"I have to leave soon." Albus's voice was tight; I reached up with the hand on his chest, pushing his hair back from his face. "I don't want to…" He hesitated, his gaze raking over me to gage how I might react to his next words, "I'll miss you." He amended after a moment. I swallowed.

"I'll miss you too." I murmured to him, looking at him seriously. "And I don't miss people."

"I know." Albus murmured to me. He shook his head slightly after a moment. "I can't believe this." He whispered.

"I know." I murmured, ducking my head against his chest. "Me either." I hesitated, then slipped my arms around him and closed my eyes, hugging him tightly. He pressed his face into my hair, running a rough hand over the back of my head. "I'll be fine, you can crash Fred's house whenever you want—you know that." I whispered into his shirt.

"Everyday." Albus swore.

"Mm, this is fun, guys, but do me a favor and stop sexing each other. It's kind of exhausting for me, because Molly's like my sister, and it's kind of making me want to shove you into moving traffic—" Fred popped up beside us, and I pulled away from Albus to hit Fred's arm; he yelped.

"I hate you more than I'm actually able to verbally express." Albus told Fred with a frown.

"I'm taking your girlfriend home with me—"

"Fred, I'll punch you."

"Alright, then." Fred said easily. He turned to me. "Molly, care to go home, now?" He asked me. "Before my good cousin beats me with a stick?" I shrugged. Fred nodded, looking to Albus. "You'll come over tomorrow." He said, his voice lacking a question. Al nodded, and I relaxed. I could do that.

Fred slipped his arm around my shoulders. "Alrighty, Mollilicious, let's go—"

"Keep calling me that and you'll be missing your arm before morning." I told him. Fred grinned down at me, but I saw the shadow in his eyes. Rose had forced us to the point where even Fred wasn't entirely happy. He just kept faking it because he was Fred.

"Understood," He said, pulling me after him towards his parents, and I sighed, following.

This was going to be a long Christmas break.

* * *

**A/N: **WHAT THE WOAH. You guys. I got 28 reviews for this chapter. 28. Holy Lord in heaven. It was amazing. You guys are the all-time best and your reviews were all so sweet and personal in addition to being numerous… I don't even know what to do with you. Except thank you all for how incredibly amazing you all are.

To the lovely reviewers who contributed to my 28 reviews:

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	22. The Show Goes On

**A/N:** Hey, you lot, just a note: the Mr. and Mrs. Weasley primarily referenced in this chapter are _Fred's_ parents. I make that clear along the way, but up until Don't Trust Me Part 2, they were primarily Rose's parents, so I just wanted to drive it home…

Dedicated to the **MAGICAL MOLIVLINE** who beta'd this.

Happy reading!

* * *

The Show Goes On

_So no matter what been through, no matter what you into__  
__No matter what you see when you look outside your window__  
__Brown grass or green grass, picket fence or barbed wire__  
__Never ever put them down, you just lift your arms higher__  
__Raise 'em 'til your arms tired, let 'em know you here__  
__That you struggling, survivin', that you gon' persevere__  
__Ain't nobody leavin', nobody goin' home__  
__Even if they turn the lights out, the show is goin' on__._

_-Lupe Fiasco_

_Weasley Wrangle Widened; Gale Girl at Fault_

The headline stared at me, below it, a picture of Fred, his parents and myself exiting King's Cross Station. I swallowed as I stared down at it. It had been only two days ago that I confronted Rose about the nightmare that was my life, and things had fallen silent between us. Rose was staying with her Mum's parents for a few days so that her parents and Hugo could spend Christmas with the Potters; Albus had made it very clear to his parents that he wouldn't be spending any time with her. Fred and I had made the same thing clear to his parents, though that hardly seemed necessary; Fred's mum and dad were such different people then Rose's parents. And infinitely easier to live with.

I had not yet heard from Nate, and it was making me mental. I'd gone over the last conversation I'd had with Nate twelve million times; we'd talked about talking. We always wrote each other. It'd been over a week, now, since I'd heard from him.

"Hello sweetheart," Mrs. Weasley's voice pierced my reverie, and I glanced up at her, my gaze turning to steel as I glanced at her. I was sitting in Fred's family's kitchen; they lived in a nice house, but their kitchen was a bit small, a consequence, Mr. Weasley had told me with a grin, of having two adults who couldn't cook for their lives in the same household. The Weasleys did a lot of frozen food—and a lot of Fred's dad dragging himself to his mother's and bringing back leftovers.

"Hi." I said quietly, putting the paper down carefully.

"How's the paper this morning?"

"Another story." I admitted, smoothing down the paper; Mrs. Weasley sank down in the chair opposite me. "Not too bad, though. They don't know what happened." I glanced up at her with a morbid smile. "Guess they lost their source." Mrs. Weasley suppressed a small smile. She waited a moment, and then there were a few beats of silence.

"Tell me about your family." She said, and I swallowed, glancing up at her.

"You want to know if my dad's abusive." I said lowly, my eyes steely.

"I didn't hear her ask that." Mr. Weasley's voice interceded, and I glanced up at him sharply; he was standing in the doorway, but as his wife and I looked up at him, he stepped forward, walking to the table and then slipping into the chair beside his wife; I watched him warily. "Did you ask that, Angie?"

"I did not." Mrs. Weasley said, shaking her head easily. "You're obviously close to your family. If you and Cormac are going to be living with us, we get a little bit of back story, surely…"

I stared at the Weasleys for a moment. "Other than Cormac, there are Cal, and Ellie, and Nate." I paused. "Cal and Ellie are twins and eight-years-old. They're sweet, when they're not being devil incarnates." I paused. "And Nate is fifteen. He's eleven months younger than me and he's my best friend, other than…" The sentence died on my tongue—_Rose_. But Rose wasn't in that category of best friend, anymore. "Other than Fred." I finished after a moment, keeping my voice steady. There was a beat of silence—Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had assumed what I'd meant—before I ploughed on, the silence filling my lungs and smothering me. "I'm going to go see him today. Just to make sure the house is still standing, the kids are still in school, etc." I paused. "And I need to go to Cal and Ellie's Christmas pageant on Christmas eve."

"Your father won't be there?" Mrs. Weasley checked. I shook my head.

"I only try to see him when sending anyone else would put them in danger." I said lowly to the adults in front of me, even as I stood up, putting my hands on the table. "Don't mistake the things I do that put me in danger for stupidity."

"No, we know you're not stupid." Mrs. Weasley assured me, leaning back in her chair. "Fred doesn't waste his time with stupidity." I snorted.

"Unless it's pretty." I murmured, and Mrs. Weasley smothered a smile, looking down, while Fred's father barked out a laugh. I glanced down at the table, letting the happiness die down, and Mr. Weasley spoke again.

"I'm sorry that my little brother and Hermione gave you a hard time." He said, and I glanced up at him sharply. "Hermione's a little tightly wound and Ron isn't always so great at talking her down." He shrugged. "I'm sorry you paid the price for that."

"It's not their fault." I murmured, the words leaving my mouth automatically. "Mr. Potter practically forced me on them and I'm the impossible child." I let that bitter smile return, the one that had been returning much too frequently, recently. "Mrs. Weasley didn't even want to clear the underage magic I did to get Cormac out of the house."

"You know you've done everything right so far with your family." Fred's mum said seriously, leaning forward and covering one my outstretched hands with hers, the most maternal gesture someone had done to me in a long time. "Don't let anything anyone's said challenge that. This is an impossible situation. You're trying your hardest and you'll survive this."

I felt that familiar desperate feeling, the one that clawed up every time I felt like maybe there was a light at the end of this tunnel. It was worse when I thought I had a chance of coming out on the other side of all of this—the other side of Rose, of my dad—because then the stakes quadrupled. I could make clear-headed decisions right now, because I was non-salvageable. My life was a car wreck, and I was trying to pull Cal and Ellie Nate and Cormac from that, never myself. But then people like Fred's parents came and did this. They handed me a chance and thoughts of saving myself and suddenly every decision I made was harder. It sounded like a favor—telling me I could "survive" this. But really it just ensured that I wouldn't.

"Don't do this." I murmured, rubbing my forehead, before I pushed myself to my feet. "Don't make me think I have a chance at getting out of this." I pushed myself to my feet, swallowing the panic in my throat as I pushed away another group of people who wanted to help me. "I know I don't. I never have." I swallowed, pushing my hair out of my face. "And that's not what I'm fighting for. This isn't about me." I paused. "This is about making sure Nate and the rest of them get out of this alive." I stepped back from the table, turning away and running out of the kitchen.

I couldn't be saved. I knew that. I just wished people would stop tempting me with it.

* * *

Two hours later, Fred and I were sitting in the Potters' upstairs hallway, waiting for Albus while he showered and got dressed. We'd wrangled his parents into letting us go to my house—if I brought the boys with me. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley knew that I'd never drag them near my father. Besides. Today wasn't about my father, or the boys. Today was about Nate and Cal and Ellie.

"I'm psyched to meet your brother." Fred admitted. "I've got this sort of idea that he's the less serious version of you—"

"Tactful." I said dryly, raising my eyebrows.

"I am a master of eloquence and social grace…" Fred's voice drifted off. "That's how I get all the girls."

"I mean, I am certainly charmed. My brother being the _less serious_ version of me—" I shook my head. "I love implications that I am too serious… I mean, that _is_ how Al got me to go out with him. Implied insults."

"Like I could insult you if I wanted to." Albus scoffed as he opened his door; I glanced up at him with a smile, and he grinned down at me. Albus's hair was almost dry—reason number 102384 I hated being friends with boys; two minutes after their shower, their hair was dry and looked alright, even if Albus's hair, inherited from his father, was perpetually messy. He offered me a hand up, but I pushed myself to my feet, before I put a hand on his cheek, kissing him lightly as his arm drifted around my waist. When I pulled back, Fred pulled a face.

"Guys…" he whined in a high-pitched voice. "Stop snogging. It makes me feel left out." He pouted like a child. Then his expression changed to a delighted grin. "Or—"

"I hear where you're going with this, mate," Albus cut him off, a glare gracing his features. "And I'm stopping you." I paused, frowning, then it dawned on me, and I made a gagging sound, as Albus pulled me tighter against him.

"In your dreams, Weasley." I said after a moment.

"Not even there." Albus muttered, looking irritated.

"Alright, alright, I was kidding. Jokes, jokes."

"Better have been…" Albus murmured.

"Come on, you two." I muttered, interrupting them before this could become a thing. I pulled away from Albus, shoving Fred lightly in front of me as Albus followed us down the hallway. "Let's go make sure my house is still standing." The words were light-hearted, a half kind of joke; still, though, the boys both fell silent. Albus's hand slipped into mine, and he squeezed it lightly. I swallowed, this new sense of foreboding threatening to strangle me. I searched for something to say— something to crush the foreboding— but nothing came, so I just said the first thing I thought of as we reached the end of the hallway, starting down the Potters' back stairs. "They're fine." I said, the words awkward in the silence, but I needed them. "I would know." I tried, but I knew that wasn't true. Saying it didn't make it so.

"I think Nate would have tried to reach you if something bad had happened." Fred said, comfortingly as we emerged at the bottom of the stairs, making our way towards the Potter's fireplace as Al stepped up beside me; I winced. It made me nervous that I was operating off of process of elimination.

"Guys, when we're with my family—" I hesitated, taking a step forward quickly and turning, so I was facing both boys. "We don't like strangers. Cal and Ellie don't know or are too young to understand how bad stuff is and Nate hates—people—so just—don't do anything stupid." I struggled with the words. I wanted to say something else—_I'm letting you into my family, please don't screw me over—_but I couldn't bring myself to do it.

"Nate hates people?" Albus asked, raising his eyebrows with a grin. "I wonder where he got _that_ from—"

"No—"I ran my hand over my hair. "In our family. We don't tell people what's happening—even Nate's girlfriend is out of the loop. So maybe—just—I don't know how well Nate will take to you." I shook my head. "So just, don't talk unless he's starting a conversation with you." I looked from Fred to Albus, and both boys nodded once. I turned away, pretending not to see the look that Fred and Albus traded—it was that one that everyone always had, when they got a little taste of the perpetual war that was my family.

I just grabbed the floo powder and stepped into the fireplace, avoiding the boys' gazes as I said the now familiar name of the only Wizarding pub in Nottingham.

Albus and Fred were going to meet my family.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, having left Fred and Albus at the gate to my house, I walked up to the door of my house; my dad's car was gone, and he wouldn't have let my mother drive it, so it had to be Dad who had left.

I hesitated in front of the door; something felt weird. I turned, frowning at the boys as I eyed my increasingly disheveled front yard, then it occurred to me: the front walk wasn't shoveled. Nate always shoveled the front walk, with Cal whining but helping. Or Dad did, if the boys were at school.

I turned, rapping on the door quickly, my nerves eating at my stomach. I heard the sound of feet slamming on stairs behind the door, and then a muffled fight ("you get it!" "no, _you_ get it!" "Mummy told us not to open the door for people!" "Then why did you tell me to get the door?") before I leaned against the door slightly, recognizing the voices.

"Guys, it's me." I said to Cal and Ellie, who were on the other side of the front door. The door burst open, and suddenly I was assaulted by the twins, both of whom leapt at me, wrapping their arms around me. Despite the nervousness that was swamping me—where was Nate?—I felt a grin grace my features as I hoisted Cal up onto my hip, and Ellie clung to my waist.

"Molly!" Ellie squeaked pleasedly as I put one arm down to smooth down her hair.

"Hey baby girl—"

"There are boys in our yard." Cal's voice was soft and worried next to my ear, and I pressed a kiss to the side of his head before I twisted uncomfortably, so that I was facing the boys. Ellie slid a little so she was mostly behind me, and Cal glanced up at them, then turned and pressed his face into my neck. The twins were disconcertingly shy around new people.

"They're my friends." I told them easily, and Ellie pressed her face into my jacket, and shivered a little. It occurred to me that she was still in her PJs—it was almost one. On a Sunday. Dad hadn't taken the kids to church with him this morning.

"Let's get inside." I said after a moment, looking back towards the boys. "Guys, c'mon, we're going in." I let Cal slide to the ground, being careful to plant him inside, and then I unwrapped Ellie enough to lead her inside too, as Al and Fred came up the steps quietly. I avoided Fred's gaze as he came in, but forced me to meet Albus's uncertain gaze as he stepped into the house.

I closed the door behind them, before I carefully removed my jacket, hanging it on the coathangers nailed to the wall behind the door; I carefully stepped out of my rainboots as well. I'd left my snowboots here when I'd fled on Cormac's birthday. I turned back to face the boys and the twins after a moment, staring at Ellie and Cal. They looked back up at me balefully. Cal's hair hadn't been brushed and Ellie's braids had obviously been slept in; nearly a quarter of her hair had escaped.

"Is Mum home?" I asked after a moment, making sure I sounded cheerful.

"She went to see Coach Causer." Cal said easily. I swallowed my automatic bitter hatred of my mother.

"Where's Dad?"

"He's at a conference for work." Cal said, disappointedly. "He had to leave this morning. He won't be home until Christmas." I exhaled shortly. Dad didn't _have_ a job. There was no possibility of a conference. So he wasn't at a conference; I wasted a half of a second wondering where he'd be until Christmas, before I shut myself down. As long as Dad wasn't here, he was not one of my issues.

But Nate was. "Where's Nate?" I asked carefully.

"Sleeping." Ellie supplied, when Cal didn't respond; I exhaled heavily. At least someone was home with the kids, even if he was asleep. "He and Daddy fought last night until the sun was almost up so Mummy said to let him sleep late." I ran my hand through my hair, feeling that familiar anxiety twist in my chest.

"Alright—" I murmured, deciding not to push the point of the argument in front of the boys, though I didn't miss the scandalized look I got from Albus. "Ellie, Cal, this is Fred," I gestured to Fred, "and Albus." I pointed to Albus. "Al's my boyfriend, and Fred's my best friend. They go to magic school with me."

"Do you know magic too?" Cal asked, looking up at the boys. Fred scratched the back of his head nervously, before Albus nodded for him. "Just like Cormac. Cormac knows magic too." Cal looked at me. "Where's Cory? Daddy said you kidnapped him."

I rolled my shoulders, feeling the familiar stress knots come up in my back as I heard the accusation from last weekend. "He's staying with friends." I told Cal shortly. "I didn't kidnap him."

"Nate told us." Ellie said softly. I pushed my hair out of my face, looking up at the boys exhaustedly. Albus's expression was clear, but I could tell from the way his green eyes never left my blue ones that he was alarmed by what he was hearing. Fred looked angry.

"Guys, would you be alright with hanging out down here Albus and Fred?" I asked the twins. Cal looked up at Albus.

"Albus is a silly name." He told him softly.

"I agree. So most people call me Al." Albus said easily to the little boy.

"You're Molly's boyfriend?" Ellie piped up, and I glanced at her, raising one eyebrow. "Like Nate and Sarah?"

"Just like Nate and Sarah." I agreed.

"Except Nate dumped Sarah." Cal volunteered.

"He did?" I asked, frowning at him.

"Sarah asked too many questions." Cal said, and I blinked at my baby brother; Nate couldn't have told Cal the reason he broke up with Sarah.

"You only know that 'cause you were _eavesdropping _on Natey when he was dumping Sarah—"

"Don't do that, Cal." I ordered, frowning at my brother. I looked at the boys. "Okay, I'm going to go talk to Nate, just take the kids into the living room and let them watch TV or—" I paused, as my gaze landed on Ellie. She was standing there, staring up at me, nervousness on her face. I hesitated; I wanted to run upstairs and make sure Nate was okay, and if he was, I was going to shake him for not writing me. But Ellie needed me. Argh. This was the problem with this family. I gave an inch and they took a mile.

"You alright, baby girl?" I asked, forcing my voice to become gentle. Her gaze dropped to the ground, and I sighed, sending a glance heavenward before I sank down to a crouch so I was at her eyelevel. "Ellie," I said softly, putting my hands on her shoulders; her gaze flicked instinctively up to me, "I can't fix stuff if I don't know what's wrong."

She shifted nervously, glancing up and back at the boys, before she looked back to me.

"I'm not supposed to talk about stuff in front of other people, I thought…" She murmured, and I winced. Nate and I had taught the kids early on; don't talk about my magic, don't talk about Dad's panic attacks, not to other people. It sounded bad, I knew that—I could tell, by the outright panic making itself visible on Albus's face—but the point wasn't that we were trying to hide our abuse or some other such thing. We just didn't like questions and if Ellie or Cal ever told anyone about my magic, we'd have a lot of explaining to do.

"It's okay, they know, Ellie." I told her softly, pushing her hair out of her face carefully. "They can hear."

She nodded, biting her lip for a moment. "Daddy broke the living room last night." She whispered to me. I frowned.

"Daddy broke the living room?" I asked, trying to translate that from seven-year-old to English. "What do you mean, sweetheart?"

She glanced back at Fred and Albus, obviously uncomfortable that I was asking her to explain this in front of them, but then she looked back to me. "We can't hang out in there. There's nothing to sit on." I blinked, before that familiar dread crept into my stomach.

I stood up immediately, passing Ellie wordlessly to cross the foyer to the door to the living room. I pushed it open, my dread multiplying as I had some trouble doing so; something was leaning against the door. I braced my shoulder against it, forcing the door open with a clattering sound, and then I looked at the room. It had been destroyed. The chairs had been smashed against the wall, their remnants strewn on the couch and on the walls. The couch had been flipped backwards; the coffee table was in pieces on the floor. The television had been tipped over, and the screen had cracked. There was a spot on the wall where it had been punched in. I lifted my hand to cover my mouth.

Oh, God.

I heard footsteps behind me as Albus and Fred moved to get a look at the room; I closed the door quickly, turning my back to it and avoiding the worried glances from my friends. Dad had destroyed that room—Nate had been in that room when Dad had destroyed it. I looked down at Cal and Ellie, both of whom were looking up at me for instructions.

"Fred and Albus are taking you to the park." I said after a moment, hoarsely.

"What was in there?" Albus asked me, and I glanced towards him, my eyes wide, before I looked back to the twins.

"Ellie, Cal, upstairs, go change into normal clothes so Fred and Albus can take you to the park." I told them lowly, my crisis management skills kicking in. "Come right down, make sure not to wake Nate, and Ellie, when you come down, bring down a brush, I want to fix your hair." She nodded, and then she grabbed his sleeve, pulling him up the stairs after her. I waited until I heard them hit the landing upstairs and then the doors of their room shut before I turned to the boys.

"What's in the living room?" Albus repeated, staring at me. I swallowed.

"Dad destroyed it." I mumbled, pushing my hair out of my face. Albus took a step towards it, but I stepped towards him, putting my hands on his chest and forcing him backwards; Fred sidestepped us and reached the door before I could stop him. He opened it and made to take a step inside, before he stopped dead in the doorway; I let my arms drop to my sides, and Albus stepped around me to look at the room.

"Holy shit." He murmured, and I turned to face the boys as Fred turned back to me.

"You keep telling Albus and I that stuff at home isn't that bad, that your dad doesn't hurt you—but _what the fuck is this_?" He asked loudly.

"Shut up, Fred, Cal and Ellie are just upstairs—" I hissed at him, glaring.

"No, this isn't a shut up thing, Molly." Albus muttered, turning back to me. "You've been lying to us."

"You think I had _any_ idea this was happening?" I growled at the boys, stepping forward angrily. "You think I would have left my siblings at home if I thought that they would be in danger for even one second—"

"_What_ did you think would happen?" Albus hissed. "He hurt _you_—it's clear that you've taught Ellie and Cal not to talk about stuff like this in front of strangers—you thought _something_—"

"You don't know what it's like, Albus." I hissed at him; this shut him up long enough to let me speak. "I'm in constant crisis mode, here! I can't plan long term because I am _drowning_ in the short term!" I glared at him. "But I would never have left home in August if I thought he would have hurt them." The words were final and authoritative and true. "Now that I know, I'll fix this, but I need you and Fred to suck up all this freak out and take the kids to the park so I can wake up Nate, figure out what happened last night, and _fix it_. That is what I do here. I fix stuff." I glared at Albus. "So shut up. You don't have any idea what the fuck you're talking about." I turned away, running my hand through my hair.

"Molly, he's not mad at you, this just scares us." Fred murmured, and I heard him take a step forward. "You get that, right? How this would be—"

"You think you're scared?" I hissed at him, turning angrily. "Because you think this has happened to _me_? I'm scared because this happened to my little brother. Because Nate, and Cal, and Ellie, and Mum were all home when he did that." I stared at them. "Imagine if Roxy or Lily had been here. Imagine it was one of _your_ dads in there." I looked at Albus. "This is my _family_. You think you're scared, but I'm the one who has her entire existence on the line here, so _shut. Up._"

Silence greeted that, and I turned away from the boys again, putting my hands on the front table, letting my head hang down as I braced myself against the table. This was bad. Another bad thing. Yay.

"Molly?" Ellie asked, and I straightened up to see Ellie in a skirt with rainbow-striped leggings on under it, a t-shirt and a sweater on top. She bounced down the stairs, almost falling on the last step, but she beamed up at me nonetheless, offering a hairbrush.

"Thanks, sweetheart," I said, my voice a little tight as Ellie turned her back to me, so I could do hair. I put the hairbrush down on the table, and gently pulled the hair ties out of her hair. I undid what was left of the braids, then began to carefully brush it. "Was Nate in there with Daddy?" I asked after a moment; Ellie, even at just seven, didn't need to have clarified where "there" was.

"He tried to stop Daddy but then he just left." Ellie murmured. I nodded once, even though she couldn't see me; I separated her hair into halves, then began to braid one side.

"So Natey didn't get hurt?" I asked carefully, keeping worry out of my voice as I finished one of her braids; Ellie was too perceptive with feelings. If I showed panic, she would panic too.

"No." She murmured. I nodded once, exhaling heavily. I started on the other braid, and finished it in a moment, tying it up. "Thank you," She chirped, turning back to me, and I smiled distractedly at her. "Where do you live?" She asked me after a second, completely nonsequitor but without an ounce of self-consciousness, in the way that only seven-year-olds can.

"With Fred." I said quietly, looking up at my friend. He met my gaze darkly, but Ellie turned to him and rushed forward, hugging him tightly around the waist. Fred looked disconcerted, before carefully putting a hand on the top of her head.

"Thank you for letting Molly live with you." She said, her voice muffled by his leg. I crossed my arms across my chest, feeling homesickness swamp me. Ellie and Cal were the terrible twosome if they'd ever existed, and on more than one occasion, they'd had a terrible tantrum during which I'd fantasized about killing them, but sometimes they were just adorable. And that was here, now.

"Molly's my very best friend, so I don't mind even a little bit." Fred murmured to Ellie, but he was looking at me seriously.

"No, Natey—" I heard Cal say at the top of the stairs. I looked up; Nate, still in his pajamas, was standing at the top of the stairs, Cal beside him. Cal looked down at me desperately; he wasn't supposed to have woken Nate up, but he'd probably done it accidentally.

"Molly?" Nate asked uncertainly. I felt relief sweep me; Nate was alright. "What are you doing here?"

"You didn't write." I said lowly to him, staring up the stairs. Nate winced, starting down them.

"I meant to, but—" He cut himself as he got halfway down the stairs and caught sight of Albus and Fred; he stopped. "Who are they?" He asked, bluntly.

"Albus and Fred." I muttered, pushing my hair out of my face.

"Your friends." Nate murmured, looking them over seriously.

"Actually, I'm the boyfriend, now." Albus volunteered, his voice a little tense, but otherwise there was no sign of the fact that we'd just had a little bit of an argument.

"You didn't tell me that." Nate said lowly to me, coming down the rest of the stairs slowly.

"You didn't tell me you dumped Sarah so I guess we're even." I murmured as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

"You brought Fred and Albus but not Rose." Nate noted.

"Rose screwed up." I responded.

"She's out?" Nate asked, and I nodded once.

"We need to talk." I said pointedly.

"It'll be a short conversation." Nate said carefully. "I'm guessing you've seen the living room."

"Brilliant boy." I murmured sarcastically. He didn't say anything else, just stared at me, and I stared back at him. This is what we did, Nate and I. "Dad didn't hurt you?" I asked.

"Nope." Nate said easily.

"I'm tired of waiting for that." I told him. Nate nodded tiredly, exhaling as he ran a hand through his hair. We stood there in silence for a moment, before he turned to Fred and Albus, his gaze focusing on Albus seriously.

"You're the boyfriend?" He asked quietly. Albus nodded, glancing at me; I'd told him not to engage with Nate unless Nate engaged first, but my brother didn't exactly sound friendly, right now. "I thought you were the bloke the papers were accusing her of dating." He said, his eyes narrowing. "You're the one whose dad is famous so they started stalking Molly." Nate crossed his arms over his chest as he looked, hard, at Albus.

"My mum's taking care of the papers." Fred volunteered, stepping up beside Albus. "We are sorry about that."

Nate glanced to Fred for a second, before he turned to look at me. I raised my eyebrows. "You done defending me to my _friends_, idiot?" I demanded. Nate blinked, then grinned.

"I'm your brother, I have to defend your honor…"

"Yes, because my _honor_ is in danger with these two—" I muttered, rolling my eyes. "I only started dating Albus last week. And that was only when _I_ kissed him."

"I don't want the gory details…" Nate whined, frowning at me.

"Then stop acting like I need defending to my best friend and my boyfriend…" I snorted in laughter, elegantly.

"Silly Natey." Ellie said, shaking her head; Nate and I looked down at her. "Molly's a big girl." She explained. "Not even Mummy and Daddy need to take care of Molly."

"Right-o, Ellie girl." I said happily, stepping towards her and lifting her, swinging her up into my arms; Ellie screamed with laughter, wrapping her arms around my neck and hugging me tightly. "I can take care of myself." I looked over Ellie's shoulder to Nate, hugging my baby sister to me tightly. I'd missed her.

"We still need to talk." Nate acknowledged.

"Big kid talk." Cal said, looking to Fred and Albus. "Natey and Molly have big kid talk and sometimes they let us stay but not a lot…"

"Never ever." Ellie said, pulling back to frown at me.

"Hush." I murmured to her, letting her slide to the floor. "Al, Fred, you guys have to take the kids to the playground, and I'm going to figure—this—out."

"Another famous plan of one Miss Molly Gale?" Fred asked, smiling a little, but it was clear that he was not happy.

"You're going to move them out or something?" Albus asked, the question leading; he didn't understand. I swallowed, not allowing myself to look at Nate.

"Can't." I said shortly, unwilling to say any more in front of the twins.

"But your dad—"

"Shut up." Nate murmured, stepping towards my boyfriend. "The twins are still here. We don't talk about this stuff in front of them." Albus gaped at him, opening his mouth to continue, but Cal cut him off.

"Because it's _big kid_ talk." Cal mumbled, his voice filled with disgust. I forced a smile down at him, looking back up to Fred. "Take the kids outside for a moment?" I asked. "Al will catch up with you in a heartbeat, I swear—"

"Lovely though that sounds, I would like to make the important point that I do not yet know where I am taking these delightful little buggers as of yet—" Fred said grandly, and Cal laughed, beaming up at Fred.

"Playground down the street, silly." Cal told him.

"I am silly." Fred agreed, looking up at me.

"Turn right out of the gate, walk three blocks, you can't miss it." I told him, and Fred nodded; I looked down at the twins. "You need snow boots and jackets if you intend to go to the park in this weather." I told them, and both of them scampered to the coat closet, where we kept our winter things.

Albus crossed to me, putting his arms around my waist, ducking his head beside mine, his mouth beside my ear; I put my hands on his chest, bracing myself against him. "What are you doing, Molly?" He murmured, and I pulled back, looking up at him seriously, my blue gaze invading his green as I tried to keep a handle on this.

"My family operates in shades of gray." I told him softly. "I know it doesn't look right, but believe me. We don't have a lot of options." Albus opened his mouth to respond, and I stood on tiptoe, looping one arm around his neck to kiss him for a moment, silencing him. I pulled back, and he frowned at me.

"Unfair." He murmured.

"I've never fought fair." I told him with a small smile.

"This is disgusting." Nate muttered, and I glanced at him; my little brother looked massively uncomfortable and a little angry as he glared at Albus.

"I agree." Fred said sourly.

"Cooties." Ellie offered, by way of disapproval, and Al grinned at me, but released me. I rewarded him with a grin; I wanted the kids to like him. And Nate obviously didn't.

"Let's go, devil children." Fred said cheerfully, as Ellie struggled into her coat, and Cal leapt at the door, tugging it open. "To the playground with us."

"We're not the devil children." Ellie protested as she started buttoning up her jacket with mismatched buttons.

"No, you are." Nate said with a grin, stepping towards Ellie and crouching down to unbutton the buttons she'd mismatched; he fixed them, then, taking her hat from her hands, tugged it down over her eyes. She shrieked in cheerful dismay, pulling it back up and flashing Nate a quick glare, before she turned and ran after Cal out the door.

"Have fun." I said, a touch of irony in my voice as I grinned at the boys. "Thanks for this, by the way."

"What we're here for." Fred said, shrugging.

"I like to think I'm good for more than babysitting." Albus protested as he held the door open for Fred. "And after _you_, good sir."

"No, no, my good man, I could never; after _you_—"

"Hey guys," I said, flashing them a tense smile. "The twins are at the gate already, and if you lose them in the snow, I guarantee you, you will not be returning home alive."

"Golly gosh." Fred muttered, ducking out the door; Albus turned to me, grinning, before he followed Fred out the door, and I exhaled as he shut the door behind him, my smile faded. I glanced at Nate.

"And here we are again." Nate murmured, stretching his head to one side and rubbing the side of his neck. There was an awkward beat of silence, before Nate straightened up, his arms crossing across his chest. "Want some cereal?"

"We have cereal?" I asked him, my eyebrows shooting up.

"Well…" He hesitated, looking embarrassed; Poor Nate. "Tea, then?"

"I'll heat the water." I told him, passing him and going into the kitchen; Nate followed me after a moment. He carefully sat down at the small kitchen table, while I busily went to the cabinet, opening it and pulling out the teapot; I moved to the sink, turning on the water and filling the teapot, before I put it on the stove, flipping on the burner.

It was only after I had nothing left to do that I turned back to face Nate. I leaned back against the countertop, my hands braced against it, my eyes on my little brother. He looked exhausted; there were circles under his eyes, and his eyes were glazed over. I felt bad for him, on some level. But he'd broken the rules.

"So." I said carefully. "You didn't write me for a week."

"I did not." He agreed, leaning back in his chair. I stared at him; he knew that wasn't what I wanted. "Dad's been on the war path all week." He admitted after a second. "He knows I've been writing you—he tore apart my room last Sunday, after you left. Found all your letters to me— I save them, show them to the kids when they're having a bad day or something." Nate said, sounding embarrassed at caught doing something sentimental. His embarrassment disappeared in a moment, though, as he glanced up at me tiredly. "I can't write you anymore."

"You can't write me anymore?" I echoed. Nate nodded. "I guess we'll have to properly use the mirrors." I murmured.

"I guess." Nate winced. "I don't like this at all."

"Welcome to the club." I said with a brief, sarcastic smile. "I'm founder, president, and treasurer." Nate snorted in laughter, ducking his head.

"So what'd I miss in the week?" Nate asked. "How's Cory?"

"He misses you." I said firmly. "He's had a rough week." I paused. "It's been a rough week for everyone, actually." I admitted after a moment, before I lifted my hands to pull my hair back from my face, into a ponytail. "Rose betrayed us. Massively. I told her everything with Dad and stuff…" I swallowed. "She turned to the tabloids, sold everything. She's the reason I've been in the papers so much—not to say that Rita Skeeter wouldn't have picked up on the girl who has been spending so much time with Albus, but Rose multiplied the problem ten fold." I lifted my gaze to Nate's; he looked unendingly sympathetic, and it hurt my stomach to see that on his face, while simultaneously allowing relief to buzz through my veins. Nate and I still were able to do this—he was my best friend, my brother. We stuck together, and even past Rose, I had Nate.

"Bitch." Nate said after a moment, and I nodded. I didn't want to talk about this anymore.

"How's Finn?"

"He's good." Nate said easily. He hesitated. "So you and Albus."

"Me and Albus." I agreed.

"He's a good guy?" Nate checked.

"Would I date him if he weren't?" I asked; Nate shrugged. "I care about him, Nate. I want you to like him. I intend on keeping him around for a while."

"_What_?" Nate asked, staring at me outright. "Who are you and what have you done with Molly Gale?" He grinned at me. "You _love_ him." He accused.

"No." I muttered, reflexively.

"Molly!" Nate said, staring at me. "You _love_ Albus. Holy _shit_—you hate people! I like it when you hate people! It makes it easier to be your brother…" Nate stared at me. "But you love him!"

"I do not, I've been dating him since, like, Thursday." I said firmly. "I care about him, I'm not going to lie. I care about him _a lot_." I looked at him. "I trust him, Nate. Don't give him too hard of a time." My voice was stern. "He's sticking around."

"I'll get used to him." Nate offered, as much of a concession I'd get; Nate wasn't used to me having a boyfriend. I wasn't that girl—there'd only ever been Mikey and Rory before Al.

"You an Sarah broke up?" I interceded.

"Sarah lives next door—she heard Dad shouting, one night. He was…" Nate fell silent at the look I shot him; he didn't need to excuse anything to me. "Dad shouted extra loud, and the next morning she asked me about it. Turned out Finn had gone to her about my hand—he'd been worried." Nate sighed. "I had to break up with her." He shrugged. "I liked her, but no great loss." He grinned. "And Michaela Justice is apparently interested, so—"

"Michaela Justice used to bite people. Specifically, me." I pointed out.

"When we were six—"

"She drew blood." I said darkly.

"And, if I recall correctly, you proceeded to shove her into the sandbox." Nate retorted.

"She deserved it." I said stubbornly. Nate nodded skeptically, and I grinned at him, happy with this overwhelmingly normal moment for us.

But then it occurred to me that we weren't normal, and my smile disappeared. "Dad flipped out last night." I said after a moment, a nonsequitor statement if ever there was one, but this had to be discussed. "The living room's a disaster. Were you in there?" Nate nodded hesitantly. "You're alright?"

"I'd tell you." Nate murmured.

"Would you?" I asked, and he shrugged. "Nate." My voice was harsher.

"He didn't hurt me last night." Nate said dutifully. I narrowed my eyes.

"Before?"

"He banged my hand." Nate admitted. "At the soccer game, when my hand was wrapped—he was throwing something and it clipped my hand; that wasn't the point though—" I felt panic claw at my stomach as I stared at my little brother. He sounded just like me.

"The one that Scott broke?" I said numbly. "That's why your hand was still wrapped—"

"Yes, but—"

"Nate!" I said loudly, cutting him off as I crossed my arms across my chest, shaking my head. "I need—I need to trust that you'll tell me stuff before I leave you here with the twins—"

"You need to trust _me_?" Nate demanded, shooting to his feet. "You're the one who is no longer legally related to me and didn't tell me! You want me to tell you the truth? Okay. You tell me the truth, though. Did Dad push you down the stairs last weekend?" Nate demanded loudly, stepping towards me; I exhaled heavily, blinking. Had Dad pushed me down the stairs? I'd thought about that question a million times—Dad had been swiping at me, and I stumbled backwards, I thought. Or maybe he'd been reaching to push me down the stairs and I'd just beaten him to it. I wasn't sure anymore. "There's your answer, Molly." Nate murmured. "I'm not sure whether Dad hurt me. I'm not sure."

"I'll charm your doors just in case." I murmured after a moment. "Make it so if you lock them, they'll stay locked, even if he tries—" _to knock it down_. I couldn't bring myself to acknowledge the reality of that situation though. "I'll clean up the living room too." I sounded pathetic, trying to fix this, somehow, by getting ahead of the problem. But there was no getting ahead of this problem. Dad kept getting worse, Nate and I kept running after him as if that could somehow keep him in line. So I swallowed. Time to stop being pathetic. "What do you need?" I asked finally.

Nate's bitter smile, too similar to my own, appeared and frightened me; in return, I let my own bitterness show on my face, the only weapon left in my arsenal. "Parents, actual income, a babysitter for Ellie and Cal—"

"Nathanial." I snapped. Nate shook his head.

"We need you home." Nate said lowly. I exhaled heavily. That was probably the one thing I couldn't give. I had Albus. And Fred. And a bed, and Cormac. All those things at Hogwarts. But if Nate needed me home.

"I can do that." I said after a moment.

"No." He muttered after a second. "Not yet, anyway."

"You know I would." I told him.

"I know." He affirmed, exhaustedly. "But I might have to take you up on it."

"And when you do, I'll be here in a heartbeat." I told him. He nodded.

I didn't want to give up Hogwarts, more than I could express. But that didn't matter. This was family. And I would be there for them. Even if I had to drop out.

* * *

A half an hour later, Nate and I, bundled to the nines in our winter things, crossed the street to the park where the twins and the boys were. We'd left after we'd had our tea and I'd cleaned up the living room and charmed their doors, walked onto the playground Fred and Albus had gone to. Ellie was pushing Cal on the swings and would push him so high that she could run under him, which she did, screaming the whole way. Albus and Fred were sitting on one of the benches, but the moment I stepped on the playground, Albus's gaze found me, and he grinned. I felt a smile curl my own lips, and Nate shoved my shoulder, interrupting my smile; I glared up at him.

"Stop being creepy with your boyfriend. You're making me uncomfortable." He muttered.

"Nathaniel, I used to push you off that slide when we were toddlers, don't make me do it again." I told him firmly.

"You were a mean big sister." He muttered, pouting.

"You were a bratty little brother." I retorted.

"I'm not _little_…" Nate protested, from his height of what had to be 5'11, now. "Eleven months, Molly. Eleven months."

"Okay then, you were a bratty brother." I said, rolling my eyes as we approached the boys.

"I'm not stupid enough to argue with that." He acknowledged.

"Mollilicious has graced us with her presence," Fred said grandly, grinning at me as I came up.

"I feel just terribly honored." Albus said dramatically, putting a hand over his heart.

"As you should." Fred said firmly, his eyebrows coming together to impart seriousness; his eyes were still lit up with laughter, though.

"What do they call you?" Nate asked in a disgusted tone.

"Something to do with my birthday." I muttered, glancing up at him.

"Can't you all just—pretend to be normal in front of me?" Nate demanded, frowning at us. Fred chuckled. "I dislike the sister and the boyfriend thing, I dislike Fred calling my sister _Mollilicious—_" I laughed, shoving Nate's arm.

"Big kid talk is over." Ellie said cheerfully as she bounced up to us; I grinned down at her, reaching down to smooth down her hair.

"Indeed it is." I said, as Cal sprinted headlong across the playground to join us. I looked up at the boys. "How were the terrible twosome?"

"They were great." Fred said, and Ellie beamed, straightening up with the praise. "Nothing terrible about them."

"Good." I said, grinning. My grin dampened a little though, after a second. "We should probably go…" I murmured, and Fred nodded. I sighed, turning to the twins, both of whom looked up at me with their little baby faces, and I wished for a moment that I could give up Hogwarts without giving up my future. "Guys, I have to go home now—"

"We're going home too, aren't we?" Cal asked, confused. I swallowed, realizing I'd just called Fred's house _home _and not 45 West Laureate Circle.

"I live with Fred now." I said uncertainly.

"You live with Fred?" Nate asked, and I glanced up at him in time to see him looking at me sharply, accusations written on his face.

"Rose betrayed us." I murmured to him, my eyes narrowed a little. "You know this."

"I knew Rose was out, I didn't realize you were _living _with a boy." Nate said tightly, glaring at Fred. "With _that _boy."

"Girls aren't supposed to live with boys until they're married." Ellie piped up.

"Stop this." I said firmly. "I'm dating Albus. He's the one with the black hair." I pointed at Albus for the twins' benefit. "And I'm living with Fred and his sister and his parents." I pointed to Fred. "None of that bad stuff going on between Fred and me."

"Can I come live with you?" Ellie asked. "I want to live with you." I glanced down at her.

"You already live with Mummy and Daddy." I told her, smiling down at her. "Silly."

"I'd rather live with you." She said, looking up at me brightly. "You and Natey and Cory and me." I exhaled heavily, looking up from Ellie to Nate, trading looks with him. Before I had to respond to that, I heard Ellie yelp, and I looked down to see Cal glaring at her. "I guess you can come too…" She mumbled grudgingly, and I laughed, ducking down to hug her tightly and kiss the top of her head. She hugged me back, tightly, and when I released her, she hung on to my neck. I sighed, reaching back and undoing her hands, before I smiled tightly at her, and then Cal leapt at me, obscuring my view of my baby sister. I hugged him tightly, and he released me after a moment, sooner than Ellie had, and I stood up carefully. I turned to Nate, before I bit my lip, hugging him tightly. He hugged me back, just as tightly. I didn't want to leave him here with this.

But I also had too much to lose at Hogwarts, now.

I pulled back, looking up at him seriously. "You'll tell me if you need me here." I said quietly.

"I will." He said dutifully.

"Love you. Take care of yourself." I told Nate.

"You too." He murmured.

I turned to the boys, flashed one last grin at Ellie, who was looking visibly depressed, now, and grabbed Albus's hand. "Let's go." I said, my lungs feeling crushed as I forced myself not to look back at my family. Albus squeezed my hand tightly, looking down at me seriously; he was trying to tell me they'd be fine.

I didn't believe him.

* * *

**A/N**: Another 28 reviews, kids. WHAT THE WHAT? You don't understand, this is like CHRISTMAS for me. Except Christmas came twice this year. WOAH.

Now, just a note. I am getting knee surgery to replace a ligament in my knee on May 6th. So. I will not be writing within a week of that surgery because pain meds make me crazy. I will try my hardest to get ahead on this so I can then post already written chapters.

LOVE to my reviewers, who make my life easier and funner and have some of the nicest things to say in the whole entire world... you guys are THE BEST REVIEWERS EVER!

**SiNgInG iN tHe RaIn** (You are loyal like a boss... and hilarious. Your review actually made me laugh aloud and I thought it was hysterical...nobigdeal.)  
**okok123** (I'm glad you caught up 8] I really appreciate that: you obviously like my story enough to dedicate some time to reading it, because it is no short story...)  
**Molivline** (You ridiculous child, that review is a monster coming to eat me)  
**BDMJ-Fangirl** (thank youu! so sweet!)  
**DaysGoneBy** (your review was so incredibly thoughtful... I _really_ appreciate that you like my writing! Especially from FF readers: you all have no obligation to like my story, or be nice to me. And yet people are and you obviously put a lot of work into that review... It means an awful lot!)  
**AliS256** (Merci beaucoup! So sweet of you to read&review!)  
**Skittles31** (Dear Lord. You're obviously trying to smother me with your words. It will not work. I will...not...be... oh, damn.)  
**NotADreamNotYetANightmare** (First off, you are a ninja-like reviewer for loyalty/speediness. Also, for using the phrase "OH MY MERLIN'S MAGICAL PANTIES ." I might have to use that in a story... but you will get full credit, of course. And I totally didn't mean for you to cry/don't like it when people cry, but I am SO GLAD my characters are relatable enough that you feel that for Molly... :D )  
**leshawnaseville15** (you caught up. I am unsure of how you achieved this feat, but you did, and for that, I award you laziest-but-most-effective reviewer ever. Please take this award, and all the esteem that comes with it... 3)  
**whereismythumpthump** (meep I'm so glad my symbolism wasn't too...I guess tacky? I was worried it was too blatant (and it was a little blatant) but I'm pleased as punch you liked it xD And I'm glad I laid enough hints-the source being rose-without giving away everything-why she did it. thank you reviewerperson! and still awesomest screenname of them all...)  
**angel2u** (awww thank you! I don't like making people cry but I'm so glad you love my characters as much as I do... )  
**bigbangmeteor8612** (you read No Chance? YAY. No Chance is a bit like my illegitimate child of a story: I love it as much as my other stories, but not so many other people. I like to pretend to myself that that's because it's about first years and thus actual romance is impossible, but I know I was/am still working out some of the finer points of story writing. And Rory was one of my top-secret favorite characters in No Chance...)  
**foesizzle13** (THANK YOU. I love when I get lots of capital letters in reviews. It makes me so happy. And you were obviously happy. XD )  
**xxsockixxx** (You're so dedicated! You read my chapter twice? IT was a monster! And an emotional monster at that! adkfjaslkdfj thank you! And I'm so glad my story is realistic... that's obviously my aim and I LOVE hearing that!)  
**KaitlynEmmaRose** (You loyal, loyal person. You review EVERY CHAPTER. And you read No Chance, making you one of my top favorite people. Boom. Take that. But seriously, your reviews are sweet, and thoughtful, and you know my characters as well as I do, which makes them even lovelier. I was nervous about deviating from the normal Hermione-like Rose character but I'm SO glad that you, a writer of a Hermione-like Rose yourself, accepts my version of Rose. XD )  
**studygirl10** (aksfjalskjf you saw Rose's jealous issues inherited from Ron! I did that intentionally, sort of as just a thing with myself-I sort of see Rose as the very smart, female version of Ron. she doesn't mean to get herself into these spots. But she does. and she acts stupidly once there. thank you!)  
**ChibitaliaIzzy** (Nate and Molly's relationship is SUCH a big part of this story and I'm incredibly happy that you love it!)  
**Bunnies Galore** (Sooo sweet! And I love your screenname :] )  
**Tmbookworm** (thank you! I loved your review because you really explained yourself: there was a moment of panic after "this is full out depressing" but I'm glad that's only because you were picking up on the mood of the chapter... and I'm sorry for scaring your boyfriend and brother. :] )  
**Tayle Kendrin** (Thank you! XD That's crazily sweet. And 'o awesome one' is a lovely title that I hope to keep on earning chapter after chapter)  
**HGromanticsap** (Hahaha Thank you so muchhhh! You're so loyal; you're always reviewing)  
**McGonnagall is my idol** (Thank you! I love George and Angelina! I loved the fact that they eventually got together, despite Fred/Angelina before Fred's death... they never had too much of a relationship, so it barely mattered)  
**Blood and Dark Chocolate** (Thank you so much...ugh I feel like all these responses are thank you and then I move on but I really am blown away by every single review. Yours was very very nice and I love hearing from my readers)  
**jmcmutt** (I love the interactions between molly/fred/albus too... they're some of my favorites)  
**FallenStar22** (I'm so glad molly's emotions hit home with you... that is obviously my point as a writer, but it's incrediblyawesome to hear that I'm succeeding :] )  
**hushpuppy22** (Ahahaha I would buy that you're actually a critical person, but not because you're ever critical of my story, but because you're _so _thoughtful in your reviews. You never compliment anything without explaining; that's soooo important in reviews and it really does make everything better, when I know your positive points about my story are real with reasons rather than just something to say. :] )  
**SpencerReid89** (Gahhh right back at you XD Molly is going to have an interesting christmas, but it will be nice, don't worry. I won't torture my characters (or my reviewers) every chapter)  
**Allen Pitt** (You were my first reviewer! AGAIN! You're a pirate ninja! You're a beast. Incredible. Woah, snap. And your reviews are always very thoughtful and serious, so thank you. It really does mean a lot. 3 )


	23. Wish List

Wish List

_I've had a candle burning  
Hoping you'll come back to me  
I think this may be more than anything  
Mr. Santa Claus can bring  
I was adorable when you left me  
I'm on the naughty list this year  
A lump of coal won't do it justice  
It's all the loneliness I fear_  
—Neon Trees

* * *

_Molly—_

_Don't write back, I can only write you because Dad's out of town; don't come to the Christmas eve pageant. Dad's coming back early for it, apparently. You two shouldn't be in the same place._

_Love,  
Nate_

_P.S. Cormac's and your Christmas presents are attached, and I just found a few wrapped packages under the tree that are from you…this magic thing is no joke, hmm?_

* * *

I glared at the letter. My stupid father. My Christmas was suddenly looking very grim; Cormac was writing me, if not floo-calling me, every day, but now I wouldn't see him on Christmas eve. I wouldn't see any of them on Christmas eve. I felt a flare of hatred for my father; where the hell was he, even? It's not like he had a job. He couldn't have been on a work trip.

I flopped back on my bed, staring up at the ceiling of my new room and wondering, in one of the rare moments I allowed myself to think this way, whether it would always be this way. Cormac and I at the Weasleys; Nate, Callum, and Elena at home. Cormac's letters were filled with the happy adventures he was living with the Kaders, but he had a half dozen questions about the back home. I'd told him to stop writing Nate, that Dad didn't want us doing that anymore. Cormac had been put out, but I was expecting more of a reaction on Christmas eve, when I saw him. Except now I wasn't sure I was seeing him then, since Dad had ruined that, too.

Self-pity threatened to swamp me, so I smothered it, and forced myself to push myself up a little bit, looking around my room. The room itself was pretty, and in the corner of the house, across from Fred's and beside Roxy's. I had large windows, filling the room with natural light during the day; at night, I had an overhead light and a lamp on both of my bedside tables. My walls were black with a teal-colored swirl flowing across it; I had a bed, and a dresser, and bookshelf filled with books. I'd hung up pictures of my family and the few pictures I had with Fred or Albus. My makeup was lined up on my dresser, and I had my very own bathroom. This was the nicest room I'd ever had, and it was even beginning to look like I lived here. For a moment, I smiled. And then I turned away, flopping back on my bed and closing my eyes as I realized that I still would have traded it in a heartbeat for my one back in Nottingham.

No matter how much I hated the weakness it implied, I wanted my old life back.

* * *

"Frederick Weasley, you will be so very sorry if you don't put on a proper jacket and pants before you come back downstairs." Mrs. Weasley ordered loudly as she glared at her son as Fred and I ducked in the back door to their home, stomping off the snow from our boots on the back mat. "We are leaving for your grandmother's in ten minutes, and so help me God, boy, you will be dressed properly for Christmas dinner—"

"Mum, it's just family." Fred said witheringly as he grabbed an apple from the countertop and taking a bite. "Surely they're used to my antics by now—"

"No antics, tonight, Fred." Mrs. Weasley said sternly. "Mrs. Longbottom will be there." Fred balked, staring at his mother like she'd just said the most terrible of things.

It'd been four days since I'd been to my house, and I had spoken much to Fred's parents about the trip to my house. They'd made sure Dad hadn't made a surprise appearance and then left me my space; that was why I was fairly sure that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were going to last longer as my legal guardians than Rose's parents. Even the boys had left me some space, even though Albus wanted to know what Nate and I had talked about. Fred and Albus didn't know that I would ever drop out of Hogwarts. Or talk about such a thing. And since I knew they would panic should they ever find out, I had decided it wasn't worth sharing with them. I had enough warranted panic in my life. Unwarranted was useless.

Unfortunately, another big reason that I hadn't talked much to the boys about what had happened in Nottingham was because Fred and Albus had both gotten grounded for building and testing a new lock for their doors. If it wasn't Fred or Albus themselves opening the door, then the room switched with another room in the general vicinity; for example, if Lily Potter tried to sneak into her brother's room to steal his copy of _1001 Ways to Win at Wizarding Chess_, she would actually enter the bathroom, or James Potter's room, or even her own room. Which was exactly how this had come about. It was actually a really complex spell, and I thought it was actually pretty impressive, until a loophole in the charm led to Lily doing the above and the sudden inability to fix this problem. So on the second level of the Potter house, now, opening a door might lead you to any room on the second floor, and it wasn't necessarily the same room that had been there a moment before. Bad news bears. Anywho, Fred and Albus had been grounded and I'd been told that as much as the Potters loved having me, I was no allowed to go over as part of Al's punishment. But I'd see him tonight. Yay.

I unzipped my jacket, slipping it off as I frowned at Fred. "Mrs. Longbottom's a nice woman." I protested, hanging my jacket on the back of one of the kitchen chairs as Fred collapsed into one as if he'd just run forty miles. In reality, we'd walked to the backyard shed and back.

"Not Professor Longbottom's wife; his grandmother." Fred said, shaking his head seriously. "I do not understand that old woman—she's so—"

"No, I know who you're talking about—she's nice." I responded, frowning at Fred's look of utter bewilderment. "We're talking about Augusta Longbottom, right?" I asked, glancing from Fred to his mother, who grinned at me, nodding.

"She's a lovely woman, you're right, Molly—but she and Fred are not…compatible personalities." Mrs. Weasley said diplomatically. "Essentially, Fred has yet to pull off a successful prank on her and it's been quite frustrating for the poor boy—"

"That is not my fault." Fred said defensively, glaring at his mother. "She is a NINJA." Fred exclaimed, turned to stare at me, while his mother snorted in laughter across the countertop, shaking her head at the absurdity of her son. "She has eyes in the back of her head, I'm pretty sure, and she is the spriest woman on the face of this lovely planet—seriously, you'd think, being old, that a boy could sneak around to set up a proper prank, but _no_—hence, she is a _ninja_."

"She's nice." I insisted.

"You hate everyone!" Fred cried, leaning towards me. "But you like _Mrs. Longbottom_?"

"Don't talk to me like I'm a child." I told him, my eyes narrowing. "And I like people."

"No, you like Nate, and Cal, and Ellie—who I love, by the way, your siblings are adorable," He looked at me seriously, "and Albus, and me, and that's it." He looked at me seriously.

"My siblings _are_ adorable." I agreed with a proud smile. "You're…decent with kids, though, Frederick."

"Was that a compliment?" Fred demanded, staring at me. "A _compliment _from Molly Sienna Gale, queen of anger and ice and—" I kicked Fred under the table, and he jumped, then frowned at me. I smiled angelically at him, and Mrs. Weasley laughed.

"I'm glad the boys finally found a girl who could keep up with them." Mrs. Weasley said to me, and I glanced at her; she was grinning. I felt myself grinning back at her.

"Trust me," I said, pushing my snowy hair out of my face, "more than once it's been a struggle." Mrs. Weasley chuckled, and Fred sighed, pushing himself up.

"We're the most delightful bunch of boys you've ever met, Molly Sienna Gale." He said happily to me. "After all, you _are_ dating Al and you're _my_ B-F-F-L." The acronym was more than ridiculous coming from Fred, and it made me laugh, as he grabbed my hands, pulling me to my feet. "You're rather fond of us, obviously."

"No—"

"Hurtful lies!" Fred claimed.

"Fred…" I dragged his name out, still laughing as he released one of my hands but kept the other, twirling me as if we were dancing. I was nearly doubled over in laughter, now, and, it occurred to me, I'd barely laughed this week, without Albus. I missed him. Heaps.

"See, best friends." He said, grinning, and I bit my lip as I smiled, looking up at Fred.

"You're such a brat." I told him tartly, pulling away, and he just beamed at me. "C'mon, let's go upstairs—I don't want to be late—"

"That's just because you want to see _Albus_…" Fred said disgustedly as I forced him from the kitchen, into his living room; Roxy, who was reading on the couch, looked up at us as we entered.

"No, it's because I very much like Mrs. Longbottom and I don't want to be late and give her excuse to yell at us." I said reasonably. But it was a lie. I did want to see Albus. I just wasn't quite so comfortable talking about us like that, yet.

"She likes _Mrs. Longbottom_?" Roxy demanded in a scandalized voice, pushing herself to her feet and following Fred and I up the stairs. Nine-year-old Roxy was hilarious—the most sarcastic child I'd ever met, and the picture of her mother. She had the same dark skin, the same dark hair; the only difference was that she had pale blue eyes, inherited from her father. Which she turned on me, sharply. "You're sure you're friends with my brother?"

"Mrs. Longbottom is _really_ nice." I insisted.

"Mm-hmm." Roxy said mildly. "As are acromantulas. I was chatting with one just last week—"

"What have I told you about chatting with acromantulas?" Fred demanded. "Bad news, the lot of them."

"Alright, Weasleys, we must be ready for Christmas dinner in…" I glanced at the grandfather clock in the upstairs hallway. "Oh, good. Two minutes. So hurry." I gave Fred a last shove towards his room, before ducking into mine, across the hall.

I closed the door behind me, then walked to my closet, opening it and eying it's sadly lacking contents; I had two dresses, and a blouse hung up. Everything else could be, and had been, folded. I snagged a dress—it was casual enough, and red, and would reach my knees. I slipped out of my jeans and shirt, tugging the dress over my head, and then moved to my dresser, grabbing a white sweater from one of my drawers and shrugged it on.

"_Molllllllly_." Fred dragged out the 'l' and I rolled my eyes; only the twins did that.

"Still getting ready."

"I'm ready before you," He crowed.

"Enjoy your trophy." I muttered, rolling my eyes as I slipped into my shoes. Fred chuckled on the other side of the door, and I grabbed my mascara, swiping it over my eyelashes. I recapped my mascara, dropping it on my dresser, and Fred shoved open the door to my room, beaming at me.

"You're making us late." He told me. "For once it is Queen Molly of Gale Nation who has made us late and not I, Frederick Percival of WeasleyTown—"

"Move it." I said, grabbing my purse and lifting the bag onto my shoulder, and going to my door. "By the way, you better be happy I was dressed when you opened the door, because if I hadn't been, I would have crushed you." I paused as I reached the doorway; he turned, letting me go out ahead of him.

"I will keep that in mind." Fred said. "I do not want to see the lovely Molly Gale unclothed." He paused. "Not to say that you're unattractive, but—"

"Quit while you're behind." I ordered him, shooting him a frown, and he nodded, content with this option, before he started down the stairs.

"Molly, you look so pretty." Mrs. Weasley told me with a smile, beaming at me as I followed Fred down the stairs; she and Mr. Weasley, ready and looking nice, were standing in the foyer. Mrs. Weasley was fiddling with Mr. Weasley's tie, which he looked immensely displeased with; he kept reaching up to tug at his collar. "George, stop trying to loosen your tie or I'll choke you with it." Mrs. Weasley snapped at Mr. Weasley.

"You already are…" He grumbled, as I stepped off the staircase; Fred, a few steps ahead of me and beside his father, clapped his dad on the back.

"Don't fight it, Dad. You're not going to win this one." He said lowly.

"No joke." Mrs. Weasley muttered, rolling her eyes at her son. She stopped fiddling with her husband's tie for a moment to look at me.

"Thanks," I said to her, smiling a little. I was still unsure how to react to all this maternal stuff; my mother was never maternal, only confused and frightened and silent. But I figured a thanks and a smile would at least let me pass inspection.

"Mummy?" Roxy's voice, an overdose of innocence infused into it, came from the direction of the kitchen; I raised my eyebrows. I hadn't even seen her go in there. "Does chocolate ice cream come out of dresses?"

"Roxanne!" Mrs. Weasley snapped, exasperatedly.

"You go take care of her, I'll get these two to Mum's." Mr. Weasley offered Mrs. Weasley.

"We don't need _getting_ places." Fred muttered resentfully.

"I'm not concerned about the travel." Mr. Weasley agreed. "I'm concerned because the last time we left you and Albus alone has left Harry and Ginny's second floor in disarray." Fred grinned at his father, who chuckled, swatting at his son well-meaningly.

"Good, go." Mrs. Weasley dismissed, kissing her husband lightly before she pulled away, turning to the kitchen and marching towards it like a soldier into war.

"C'mon, you two." Mr. Weasley said, turning to us and crossing his arms over his chest. "Mum will kill me if we're late again—"

"Hate to break it to you, Dad, but we're already late—" Fred said with an unrepentant grin.

"Brat." Mr. Weasley laughed, shooing Fred and I into the living room. Fred slung his arm around my shoulders, and I glanced up at him, my eyes narrowing.

"You're _excited_ to see _Albus…_" Fred teased, drawing out the words; I reached over, smacking his stomach. He withdrew his arm from my shoulder, wrapping his arms around his stomach protectively. "Meanie pants." He muttered, sticking his tongue out at me, and I flashed him a slightly mean grin. Fred glared resentfully at me, before he reached out and pinched my arm, then took off for the fire place, snagging a handful of floo powder as he went. He threw it down, beginning to the say the beginning of an adress before I leapt into the fireplace with him; I smashed into him, and he caught me, not finishing the address as he struggled to get enough of a hold on me to keep us both upright. Green flames enveloped us, and we were sucked into the spinning world of the floo network. I grabbed Fred's arm, ducking my head down as soot assaulted my face; finally, we stumbled out of the fireplace.

We were not at the Fred's grandmother's.

We were in a dark, dusty, musty living room. The room looked like it had gone completely untouched for years; the couches were covered in dust, and cobwebs hung between the crystals on the chandelier. It struck me that the things in this room were nice—expensive. The windows were large, but darkened by soot, from what I could see past the graying curtains; expensive-looking art on the walls were crooked, and faded. The carpet was covered in a thick layer of dust that my shoes had disturbed; it swirled lightly around us visible in the dim light that filtered past the curtains, through the darkened windows. This room looked like a very grim living room; as a child, I might have assigned this room to Snow White's step-mother, or perhaps one of the witches from one of the tales that my mother had told me.

"Oh, boo." Fred said disappointedly as he seemed, also, to realize that we were not at the Potters. I glanced sharply at him, but saw no recognition on his face; he didn't know where we were, either. I felt unease make my ankles weak, so I pulled my wand out of my bag.

"Accio floo powder." I said after a moment; there was no movement in the room.

"This place looks like it's been abandoned for years." Fred murmured, stepping forward as he pulled out his own wand from his pocket; most pants sold in wizarding stores had specially charmed pockets to hold wands. "_Lumos," _He murmured, and his wand tip lit up, casting a dramatic shadow on the rest of the room. "Floo powder expires after about three." He turned to me. "Since I obviously didn't say 24 Grayson Place, did you happen to hear what it was I did say?" He asked me, cheerfully. I blinked.

"No." I muttered. "No I did not."

"Delightful." Fred said. I shook my head after a moment, turning back to look at the fire place. There was no customary vat of floo powder; instead, pictures decorated the mantle. I frowned, stepping towards the fireplace to lift a picture frame. I blew the dust off the frame, then thought the enchantment to light my wand, holding it up to the frame. The occupants of the photograph looked seriously out at me; it was a family of four, with the mother and the father and two severe-looking, solemn boys, one slightly younger than the other. One moved slightly, lifting a hand to tug at his collar; his mother, an angry-looking woman with dark eyes, went and slapped his hand away. The boy dropped his hand to look back up at me with the expression Nate shot me every time Dad yelled at him, that _do-you-see-what-I-have-to-put-up-with _expression.

I put the photograph back down on the mantle, turning back to Fred. "Let's get out of here." I said after a moment. "This is someone's house."

"Yes; said someone is probably one hundred ninety years old." Fred agreed sarcastically; I crossed the space between us, rolling my eyes at him. "But I suppose, if the fearless Molly Sienna Gale says we should leave, then we should leave." He amended in an overly earnest voice. Despite my discomfort, I snorted in laughter, shoving his arm and starting towards the doorway. I paused in the doorway, peeking into the hallway to make sure that the ancient resident of this home wasn't there. No people; the hallway was, however, lined with paintings and had a staircase. I raised my wand, tapping the wall light nearest me and watching it alight.

"What if someone's home?" I whispered back to Fred, even as I stepped tentatively into the hallway.

"Then we'll explain what happened." Fred whispered back, creeping up behind me; I jumped nervously, then elbowed him.

"Jerk." I muttered, crossing quickly and carefully to the staircase and ducking up the stairs, my wand extended. Fred followed, his wand at his side.

"Molly, this is not a scary house." He told me, in an amused voice. "I don't understand why you've gone into what is obviously Molly Gale super secret stealthy mode." I glanced back at him with a glare, then, without responding, turned back forward as I reached what was obviously the main floor of the house; there was a vase of dead flowers on a table under a portrait, and a large door at the end of the hallway that I suspected of being the front door to the house. Beside the door, there was what I assumed to be a large window hidden by curtains. There was a closed door that I suspected led to a coat closer, as it was the only door on the hallway; every other room on the hallway instead featured an archway.

"Because this house was obviously just…" my voice drifted off. "Just abandoned." I shook my head. "That's _weird."_

"It probably belonged to some fancy pureblood family that inbred so many times that their kids ended up unable to have kids and the line died." Fred said, shrugging.

"Inbred?" I demanded, glancing back at him. He nodded, pulling a face.

"My dad's pureblood—his family tree, when you get to the farther reaches of it, is gross." He growled, as we stepped down the hallway. I let my wand drop to my side, Fred's accusation of me overreacting to the creepiness of this house inching at me. This house was just abandoned, just like Fred said. Maybe some crazy old lady owned it but she was too old to switch houses so instead she just let this one fall into disarray—

With my wand at my side, the light from my wand wasn't far in front of me; as such, I didn't see the umbrella stand until it was just under my feet. I tripped, and Fred, half a step behind me, tripped a moment later, both of us scrabbling at the walls of the narrow hallway to stay upright. Fred grabbed at the curtains as I straightened up against the wall, catching my breath from the trip, and the curtains tore open; there was no window there, only a massive portrait. A woman with ice-gray eyes and white hair in a severe-looking bun stared out at us from the painting for a moment; I recognized her from the photo downstairs. She looked from me, to Fred, and then back to me.

And then started _screaming._

"FILTHY MUDBLOOD!_" _She screamed, making me jump about a foot in the air as I screamed in response; Fred looked equally alarmed by my reaction and the crazy old woman, and had her screaming not scared me quite so badly, I would have cared more. As it was, Fred crossed to me, but when the crazy lady started screaming again, I grabbed his arm, hard, and he cursed. His words were drowned out by the continued screaming. "DIRTY DISGUSTING BLOOD IN MY HOUSE! BLOODTRAITORS IN MY HOUSE!" Fred darted back towards the painting, trying to tug the curtains shut; they didn't move, and the portrait-lady turned scarlet. "HOW DARE YOU TRY TO SILENCE ME IN MY OWN HOUSE, YOU FILTHY TRAITOR SCUM!"

"_Silencio," I_ said in a panicked, shaking voice, barely audible to my own ears under her screaming; it had no effect. Fred backed up from the painting, shooting me a panicked look; what the hell was I freaking out about for? But her shouting was making me frazzled. I had to get out of here; I turned to the door, my fingers scrambling at the locks. The locks were complex, though, and there were several, so I couldn't get out. Fred came up beside me, his fingers working clumsily over the chains and knobs, as the crazy portrait lady kept screaming. I jammed at the lock with my wand, words leaving my mouth in a stream of drowned out mish-mash before her screaming overwhelmed me. "THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN PURITY FALLS BY THE WAYSIDE! DISGUSTING DIRTY BLOOD! DAMNED LUNATICS WILLING TO MIX PERFECT PUREBLOOD WITH MUDBLOOD! THINK YOU CAN UNLOCK MY DOOR WITH YOUR FILTHY FINGERS? NO MUDBLOOD WILL PASS THROUGH THAT DOOR!" This wasn't working. I swallowed, looking down at my panicky fingers, before I turned to Fred and grabbed his wrist, turning and pulling him after me deeper into the house, away from the screaming woman. We ran back towards the stairs, past the downward stairs to the upward ones, and then sprinted up them. Fred and I kept running, adrenaline and the distant sound of her shouting keeping us going up one set of stairs, then another, until we reached the top floor. We could barely hear her anymore; my breath came in uneven gasps, and even Fred, with his Quidditch training, collapsed on the top stair, sitting down heavily. I sank down on the step in the corner, tucking myself in there and pulling my knees up close enough to my chest that I duck my head down, covering my face with my hands. I forced myself to take deep breaths.

That had been terrifying. The fact of it was, I didn't know how these things worked for wizards; could portraits curse you? Or perform magic? I knew that woman probably would have if she could have, but that didn't necessarily mean that it was impossible. Could she curse us? Had she kept the door locked against us? "What the fuck was that?" Fred whispered to me.

"I don't know." I whispered, my hands shaking, badly, as I lowered them from my face. "Can portraits cast magic?" I asked, looking up at him. He shook his head. I nodded, letting my heart rate relax a little. She hadn't locked us in. We just couldn't unlock the doors. Theoretically, if we got back down there, and managed to not panic at her screaming, we might get the doors open.

"What the—bloody hell, that was scary. I've never seen a portrait that _angry _before…" Fred murmured, mostly to himself. "I mean—blimey." He shook his head. "Bloody hell." He blinked, looking up at me. "You're—I mean, you know she's talking complete shit, right?"

"Yeah." I murmured absently, reaching around my neck to grab at the necklace I wore there; it was a cross I'd gotten for my first communion, when I'd been seven or so. At least she wasn't going to hurt us. Just scare us to death. Actually, considering, I felt pretty cowardly; the portrait hadn't posed any danger to us. Just shouted loudly, and I had panicked. That would be useless, if Nate ever decided he needed me home.

"Maybe we should disapparate." Fred muttered, and I glanced up at him, frowning a little groggily. That was a terrible idea, for several reasons, the principle of which being that splicing my best friend would be a hell of a way to feel guilty for the rest of my existence.

"I'm the only one with any experience with that, and I'd probably splice you if I side-alonged you, and you'd probably splice yourself if you just did it yourself." I said, glancing up at him.

"You side-alonged Cormac." Fred pointed out.

"He's little." I retorted. "You're a solid six inches taller than me." I shook my head. "I don't want to risk splicing you."

"Then you apparate to my grandmother's house—"

"I don't know where your grandmother lives." I retorted. "To apparate, you need to have been there before, or at least understand the area. I could no more apparate there then I could unlock that stupid door."

"Got any suggestions?" Fred demanded, frowning at me a little.

"No." I murmured sullenly. Fred rolled his eyes, obviously a little irritated, but I didn't care.

"Helpful." Fred retorted.

"Hush—"

"You two." A sharp voice said, and Fred's and my glances both flicked up to a portrait on the wall; I felt my heart rate return to its former million beats per minute as I considered another confrontation with a portrait. I hated this. "You idiots, yes." The man in the portrait insisted, looking down at us like a babysitter who hated children. "Newton told me to tell you to wait to be arrested."

"Arrested?" I asked, unclearly.

"Well, you're breaking and entering, my dear." The man explained slowly, as if I were stupid.

"No—we floo'd here. Accidentally." Fred clarified, looking distinctly alarmed at the prospect of being arrested.

"Yes, yes, I'm sure it was _all an accident _that you've stumbled into the ancestral home of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black which is filled with various treasures, just one of which could leave you wealthy if you sold it at the right auction house—" The man said breezily; he was obviously under the impression that we were lying. Like we'd wanted to be here in the scariest abandoned house ever.

"The house of Black?" Fred echoed, without all the titles; I glanced at him sharply. "Like Sirius Black?" Fred asked, his eyes brightening. The man straightened defensively.

"My great-great grandson." He said stiffly. "Not one of our better family members, but family all the same." Fred nodded, seemingly relieved.

"Uncle Harry's godfather." He murmured to me, turning to me; I nodded, even though that meant nothing to me. I only knew the vague sketches of Harry Potter's life, mostly because I'd not grown up in the Wizarding World, and when I'd gotten here, Rose had been my best friend. I hadn't wanted to awkwardly question her. Of course, now his son was my boyfriend; I should probably learn the story. But some other time, because Fred turned back to the portrait. "My name's Fred Weasley—I'm Harry Potter's nephew, he's the current head of the Black family—"

"Not in blood." Portrait-man scoffed. Fred rolled his eyes.

"I'm dating Harry Potter's son." I told the painting, stepping up a step, so Fred and I were standing on the same step. "Arguably an heir to the house of Black—"

"Noble and Most Ancient House of Black—"

"—which means maybe I'm not technically breaking laws." I continued, ignoring the interruption. The man shrugged, seemingly to acknowledge the validity of it. "Where are we?"

"The ancestral home of the—"

"No, no, we know that." I said impatiently, frowning at the man. "_Where_ is that?"

The portrait-man looked at us for a moment, seemingly trying to fathom how it was that I didn't already know this. "12 Grimmauld Place, London, England." The man said after a moment, looking at me with a disapproving expression, his lips pursed as his eyes swept over me. "Are you sure you're being courted by Harry Potter's son?" He demanded suspiciously after a moment.

"Dating." I corrected, pulling a face at his wording.

"Alright." He paused. "I'll go tell…someone. Sort this out." He looked at us seriously. "Stay put." He shook his head. "Children these days, always getting themselves into scrapes and having to get helped out of them—in my day…" He muttered, turning and walking out of his portrait. I raised my eyebrows, glancing at Fred beside me.

"We're not going to be arrested, are we?" I murmured. "I thought you told me this wasn't a big deal—"

"We won't be arrested." Fred muttered. "Trust me, if anyone could get out of charges from the Ministry, it'd be a member of my family. Uncle Harry runs the auror department, his deputy is Uncle Ron, and then Uncle Bill is an auror, sort of, because he quit Gringotts when Dominique had her accident." I frowned—who was Dominique?—but decided not to ask, because Fred's expression had become grimmer momentarily, "Aunt Hermione runs the Magical Law Enforcement office and Uncle Percy works for the Minister…" Fred shook his head. "We'll get out of anything they charge us with.

"No, I don't want to slide out of charges." I said, frowning at him. "I want to _not be charged."_

"We won't be charged." Fred responded with a charming smile; it made me nervous. I had a feeling—one confirmed by the sort of wild look in Fred's eyes—that he was only about ninety percent sure on that, but I chose not to push him, looking away. "Some Christmas eve this is." He said after a moment.

"No joke." I said tiredly sitting down heavily.

"Wait, it's Christmas eve—aren't you supposed to be at Cal and Ellie's pageant thingy?" Fred asked. I glanced at him, a half-smile, bitter as anything, gracing my features.

"Dad came home early from his 'work trip,'" I used air-quotes around the words, and Fred raised his eyebrows.

"Why so skeptical?" He asked. I pressed my lips together; I hadn't told Fred about Dad's employment. Or rather, lack thereof. I'd forgotten that I hadn't done that.

"Dad got fired." I told him lowly, after a moment, pushing my hair out of my face as I looked up at him with a blank expression.

"Nice job, Mr. Gale." Fred murmured sarcastically, and I felt the corners of my mouth twitch in what might have been a smile, if I'd felt at all happy. "So where is he? Or where was he supposed to be?"

"Dunno." I murmured dully. Fred stared at me, and I looked at him seriously. "Welcome to my family." I murmured after a moment. "No one's doing what they're supposed to be, no one's _where _they're supposed to be…" I shrugged.

"Knowing things is overrated." Fred said after a moment, shrugging; I offered him a half a smile. He was trying. That was something. "Will you see them tomorrow, at least?"

"Nope." I told him, then swallowed. This was my first Christmas where I didn't see my family. "I'm not even supposed to write the kids anymore. Dad was apparently really pissed that Nate and I have been writing each other—" I shook my head, looking down.

"You guys have the mirrors." Fred said, his voice sympathetic. "It's another bummer, but it can be done." He paused, and then the sympathy in his voice lessened: "You deserve more." He murmured, his voice lighter, but I knew he was serious, in his odd, Fred-like way.

"Thanks." I said lowly.

"But," Fred continued after a moment. "Just think. If you were home, we couldn't be there." Fred said with a grin, and I offered him a half-smile for his efforts; he continued, though. "Christmas without Al and me would be _such _a drag." He shook his head, mock-shamefully. "I've met your siblings. The only fun ones are Cal and Ellie." He beamed at me, sitting down beside me; I felt some of my ease return as I recognized this Fred. We were both calming down from the brief excursion with the scary woman in the portrait downstairs, and slipping back into our easy, practiced roles as jokester and grumpy pants.

"Awful sweet of you to imply how boring I am." I said dryly, and he shrugged.

"Well, my momma taught me to never tell a lie, Miss Molly." Fred said, looking at me, and I rolled my eyes, pinching his arm.

"Don't bring your mother into this." I told him chidingly. "She's a nice woman." He nodded, beaming all the sudden, even as he rubbed the spot I'd pinched. I turned my gaze to the hallway, leaning back a little on the step to inspect the hallway.

"So you're settling in with the family?" He checked, sounding as if he were distracted, and I glanced at him.

"Be a little subtler, Frederick." I drawled. Fred grinned at me. "You want me to stay with you guys." I surmised.

"Duh." Fred said, grinning at me. "You're my best friend. Having you live with us would be _lovely, amazing, super-cali-fragilistic-expe-alidocious."_

"How are you familiar with that?" I demanded, my eyebrows shooting up as I eyed my best friend. "That's a muggle thing."

"Sometimes I like watching muggle movies." Fred shot back. He paused. "And since Uncle Harry was pretty much a muggle growing up, he's pretty attached to movies and stuff so they have players for that stuff, and I spend a disproportionate amount of time with your loverboy…"

"Frederick, please believe me when I say that if you reference Albus as my _loverboy _ever again, you will not be speaking ever again." I said in a steely voice, my gaze on him hard; Fred nodded meekly, falling silent. I moved my gaze after a moment, leaning against the banister of the staircase and closing my eyes for a moment. Fred shifted nervously beside me. "My grandmother's probably having a panic attack." He muttered after a moment.

"She is?" I asked, glancing at him after a moment.

"Panicker, than woman." Fred muttered, shaking his head. I wrapped my arms around myself, unsure of how to respond. I'd never known my paternal grandmother—Mum's and Dad's parents had all died when I was young or before I was born. I didn't have worrying grandparents. I didn't have worrying parents. People just didn't worry about Molly Gale. "And Albus is going to have a heart attack." Fred's words interrupted my thoughts, and I raised my eyebrows. He glanced down at me.

"Why?" I asked, a bit dully.

"Because I imagine that we are, right now, _missing_." Fred said dramatically. "Mum doesn't know where we are, Dad doesn't know. So…" He shrugged. "Missing."

"I mean, it's been like, ten minutes." I told him.

"So, perhaps temporarily misplaced is more correct." Fred said, shrugging. "Either way, we are not where we are supposed to be. Parents don't like that. Boyfriends don't like that." He said, smiling, and I didn't smile back. My parents didn't care. Or my mum might have, but she was useless.

"Roxy must be thrilled." I murmured after a moment, dryly, and Fred chuckled. Roxy spent a great deal of time pretending to hate her big brother; Fred thought it was amusing, I assumed, though once and a while, a rebuff would hit home, and I would see a flash of something before Fred would joke back to her.

"She's been fantasizing about being an only child since she was old enough to walk." Fred pointed out, grinning at me. "I'm sure she's already plotting to turn my room into—some sort of thing, I'm not sure yet—"

There was a crack of disapparition on the floor below us, and I grabbed my wand, leaning forward at the same time Fred did, our eyes sharp as we fell silent. There were immediate voices, before a head poked into the stairwell to look up at us. It was a man in his early twenties, with pink and brown hair, his eyes a soft brown. My wand rose, pointed to his head, and the man's eyebrows shot up as he looked seriously at me. "Molly?" He asked.

"Do I know you?" I asked rudely.

"Charming." The man said dryly, looking to Fred. "Call her off, will you?"

"Molly, don't hurt him." Fred said, putting his hand on my wand and pushing it down, lightly. He looked down at the man, now. "Teddy!" Fred said, delightedly. "My good man, so delighted you could join us—Molly and I are just hiding up here from that terrifying portrait on the first floor…" Fred smiled charmingly at Teddy. "We're just having the loveliest time."

"You're hiding from a portrait?" Teddy asked glancing from Fred to me, expecting some sort of response.

"Really terrifying one." Fred confirmed, when I didn't say anything. "Would you like to come up here?"

"No." Teddy said firmly. "I would like to be eating Christmas eve dinner with my family and my fiancée." Teddy said, frowning at us. "But my cousin and Albus's special friend had to go get lost—" He shook his head, then pulled his head out of the stair case. "Found 'em!" He called out.

"Should we be going down to meet them?" I asked Fred, looking at him. He shrugged.

"If it's the kind lady's wish." He said, shrugging. I nodded, pushing myself to my feet and jogging down the steps lightly; Fred followed me after a moment, and we emerged onto the third floor landing. The boy that Fred had called Teddy, Mrs. Potter, and Rose's and Fred's fathers were standing on the landing, frowning at us disapprovingly. "Look, Molly!" Fred said, as if cheerfully surprised. "Everyone came to say hi!"

"Yes, Fred, we're here to say hi." Mrs. Potter agreed with a wicked grin. "Thought you'd be having a lovely time in this dusty old house with all these friendly portraits." She shook her head.

"You said the address wrong, kid!" Fred's dad exclaimed, coming forward to hug his son; Fred hugged him sheepishly, pulling back nervously; Mr. Weasley reached out, ruffling my hair, and I felt a flare of discomfort, even as I tried not to squirm away. He was just being nice.

"Alas, dear father, I would apologize," Fred began grandly, "but the lovely Miss Gale cut me off when she did a not-so-ladylike fall onto me in the middle of the address at which my grandmother resides." Fred said elegantly, and I glared at him.

"You pinched me." I told him. "I had to chase you."

"Like all acts of aggression, that was preceded by another, whence you hit me—"

"Do you ever speak like you're aware of the century we live in?" I demanded.

"Alas, fair maiden, I do not-eth." Fred said, his hand flying over his heart dramatically at _alas_. I snorted in laughter, glancing at the adults. Fred's dad was chuckling, while Rose's dad just grinned, shaking his head; Fred was amusing, even if he didn't make sense ninety percent of the time.

"Lucky you ended up here." Rose's dad said awkwardly after a moment, and we glanced at him, sharply. I hadn't spoken to or seen Rose's dad since Hogwarts, when it'd come out that Rose was the source. He met my gaze questioningly for a moment; he had no idea what to do with me. He never had.

"Not good luck." Fred pointed out, running his hand over his hair as he grinned nervously at his aunt. "Ginny, I don't know whether you're aware of this, but there is a crazy old lady in a portrait downstairs—seriously, she started screaming and it alarmed the lady, though, I, being male and brave—"

"Screamed like a girl and ran upstairs." I finished, turning to smile at him. He frowned at me.

"You have ruined the tale." He said sadly. I shrugged.

"Alas." I mocked, turning back to the adults. Mrs. Potter smiled at me.

"Mrs. Black always was charming." She said sarcastically. "Once told me that _dirty bloodtraitors _would be the death of the Wizarding World." She shrugged, looking to Rose's dad, her brother. "Ron, is the Wizarding World dead?"

"I think not." Rose's dad murmured, before he frowned for a moment. "Is she still on the wall downstairs?" Rose's dad asked, raising his eyebrows. "I'm surprised you left her there."

"Harry can't get it off." Mrs. Potter shrugged. "Old Warlburga knew what she was doing when she cast that permanent sticking charm." She shook her head, looking to Fred and I. "But enough about this house. Albus would rather like to see both of you, so Teddy, if you can side-along them back to the house…" Mrs. Potter's voice drifted off as she glanced at her godson.

"Yes, yes." Teddy said.

"Oh, also—" Mrs. Potter said hurriedly, realizing she'd forgotten to introduce us. She gestured to me. "Teddy meet Molly Gale, she's Albus's…" Mrs. Potter hesitated, glancing to me. "Girlfriend?" She asked; I nodded. "And a friend of Fred's."

"_Best _friend." Fred piped up, putting the same emphasis on the word as a small child would.

"Best friend." Mrs. Potter agreed in a let's-humor-the-crazy-boy voice; I smiled a little. "And Molly, Teddy's my godson and he's getting married this June to my niece Victoire." Mrs. Potter finished. I glanced at Teddy; he was frowning at me, as if trying to remember me.

"You're Rose's friend." He said after a moment, his eyes narrowed. "I met you when you were younger—"

"Uh, not—no." Mr. Weasley said unhappily, looking uncomfortable.

"I'll explain later." Fred offered after a moment of awkward silence, clapping his sort-of-cousin on the back; Teddy looked at him disdainfully. "You've missed a bit since you've not been at Hogwarts, Ted. Tedderman, Teds, Ted-my-boy—"

"Fred."

"Sorry." Fred said obediently. Teddy snorted, glancing at me again.

"You're the girl from the papers!" He said finally, a grin gracing his features.

"You're not building yourself any good will—" Fred tried to cut him off.

"So? You're the boy with the funny hair." I retorted, frowning at Teddy irritatedly; Fred snorted in laughter.

"I should probably mention that Molly bites back." Fred admitted.

"Oh, well. Gosh." Teddy said, shaking his head. "I suppose that's for the best if she's dating Albus and your friend."

"Best friend!" Fred insisted.

"Best friend." Teddy repeated dutifully, looking back to me. "Nice that Albus found a girlfriend. Last time I checked in, James was complaining that neither you," he glanced at Fred, "nor Al could keep a girlfriend for more than a heartbeat—"

"Tactful," Mrs. Potter scolded. "And Albus wasn't that bad."

"He really wasn't." I agreed, glancing at Fred. "Unlike Fred. Who I fear catching venereal diseases from when I enter within a ten-foot radius of his person." I kept my voice flat; Teddy burst out laughing.

"She's perfect for you losers." Teddy said, using 'loser' as a term of endearment, or so I assumed.

"I know, right?" Fred asked. "Molly's all angry. It's perfect."

"Alright, guys, c'mon, let's go." Teddy said. "C'mere." He said, and I stepped closer to him; he grabbed my wrist and Fred's lightly. He glanced at his aunt. "You're coming right after us?"

"Yes, yes—I just want to have a quick word with Ron and George, you know, making sure that Georgey understands that _losing_ children is not okay—" Mrs. Potter said easily.

"No, wait, that was my fault—" I said, straightening up.

"It was her fault." Fred agreed gravely; I reached out with my free hand, smacking his chest with my purse. "Ouch!" He frowned at me. "I take it back. It was Dad's fault."

"Thank you, Fred." Mr. Weasley said sarcastically.

"So welcome, Daddo." Fred said, beaming.

"I'm going to take these two back to the house before Molly has a heart attack." Teddy offered. I frowned up at him.

"Not having a heart attack." I told him lowly.

"Not you—my grandmother." Fred supplied.

"Oh." I said uncertainly.

"My mum's excited to meet you." Mrs. Potter told me with a smile. "She likes the idea of her Albus having a nice girlfriend—"

"Oh." I said uncertainly, my eyes widening a little. "Um—okay—"

"If Albus survived your brother's third degree interrogation, then I'm sure you're fine, Molly." Fred said, beaming at me.

"Your brother interrogated Albus?" Fred's dad asked, looking amused.

"I mean, yes." I said uncertainly. "He doesn't—we don't like—strangers." I hesitated, glancing at Fred, trying to tell him to shut up with my expression; but Fred wasn't looking at me.

"He didn't like me either." Fred said, pouting.

"I mean, I'm his sister, and I'm dating one boy while living with his best friend." I told Fred. "You understand why that might worry him."

"I certainly can." Mrs. Potter said. "Exactly why I couldn't let you stay with Harry and me—" She looked at Teddy. "Now please, let's go." She disapparated in a crack of sound, and then Teddy, without warning, disapparated us, as well. Color and sound warped around Fred and me; Fred grabbed my arm, and I turned towards Teddy, slamming my eyes shut as my stomach threatened mutiny.

Suddenly we landed, and I collapsed my knees, while Fred staggered, then stumbled away from Teddy and me, gagging. "You're terrible at apparition." I coughed out hoarsely to Teddy as he helped me up, carefully.

"What a pleasant girl you are." He said, beaming at me, and I frowned at him, before looking up: we were standing in front of a house. It was tall, with little towers here and there, but it also seemed almost unstable, on the edge of teetering over. Even the windows were crooked. But before I had too much time to spend looking at the house, the door was flung open. A squat woman with slightly crazy red hair and an exasperated frown came out of the house, walking over to Fred, who by now had struggled to his feet, and frowned at him.

"Frederick _Percival _Weasley," The woman began. "What were you thinking? How many times has your mother told you—enunciate in the floo?"

"No, but—Molly—" Fred said, gesturing to me frantically; it occurred to me that this was probably his grandmother. His grandmother followed his gaze to me, before her frown turned into a genuine smile; I felt my eyebrows shoot up.

"Molly!" She said pleasedly. "How lovely to have you, dear—" She came forward, hugging me tightly for a moment before she released me, putting her hands on my shoulders. "I'm Fred and Albus's grandmother, Molly Weasley—Albus has just told me so much about you—"

"Thank you," I said uncertainly after a moment; she beamed at me.

"Come inside, come inside—Albus will be so excited to see you—" She turned, and put her arm around my shoulders, pulling me inside beside her. I shot Fred an uncomfortable look as we passed him; he looked a little exasperated, but flashed me a weak grin, coming forward to follow us in.

"Grandmum, I'm very nearly sure that Molly—"

"They're here!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed as we stepped into the doorway, Fred popping up behind us. There was a general cheer of success as Fred grinned, waving like a queen.

"Mon dieu," A pretty blond woman came forward, beaming at Fred and I, before she hugged me; I froze, but she seemed completely undaunted by that as she pulled back, beaming at me. "You must be Molly!" She said, with a light French accent. "So nice to meet you— I'm Albus's aunt Fleur!" She turned, pulling Fred from behind me to hug him as well; he hugged her back, laughing. "Frederick!" She cried. "You silly boy! Do you not know your grandmother's address?"

"Apparently not." Fred said well-humoredly, as his aunt pulled back; I looked away, scanning the room for a moment. It took only a second to find who I was looking for: Albus. He grinned at me, before he squeezed between two of his cousins—two little girls, both of them with glasses—to cross to me, and I felt a smile wrestle at my lips. Albus's arms slipped around my waist with ease that came with practice; he grinned down at me as he pulled me against him.

"Hey love," He murmured to me, and I grinned at him, feeling my shoulders relax. I hesitated, biting my lip, before I ducked my head against his chest, closing my eyes as my forehead rested there for a moment. "I'm never getting grounded again." He murmured into my hair.

"Good." I murmured. I loved just staying here, in Albus's arms. It was nice. And warm. And he was here. But his family was here, and we couldn't do this, now. I pulled back, reaching back to my waist to undo his hands from my waist; I kept one hand of his in mine, turning back to his family. Albus's grandmother was looking at us fondly, and I offered her a shaky smile, trying not to notice how many relatives of Albus's were looking at us seriously.

Family was tiring. Mine, someone else's, it didn't matter.

But this was still nice.

* * *

**A/N: **Children of the corn. I got 29 REVIEWS FOR CHAPTER 22. 29. That's one more than 21. and 21 was part of an apocalyptic 2-parter. Whaaaaaaaaaaat?

MY REVIEWERS ARE THE BEST EVER.

YOU COME BACK WEEK AFTER WEEK. YOU MAKE ME SO SO SO SO SO SO HAPPY WHEN YOU REVIEW. SO HAPPY. WHAT THE WOAH. I DO LITTLE DANCES AT RANDOM TIMES AND ACTUALLY ANSWER MY PHONE BECAUSE I'M HOLDING IT CHECKING MY REVIEW-ALERT EMAILS.

Ninja Reviewers. Pirate Ninjas, the lot of you.

So, to my sword-wielding pirate ninjas, I wish the BEST of thanks. Especially to those of you (and there were several of you!) who wished me good luck on my surgery. Thanks amazing/wonderful/day-making/shiny-with-the-light-of-awesomeness reviewers.

**jmcmutt** (aww thank you :] I love George and Angelina as a couple too...)

**leshawnaseville15** (you have noticed a pattern with these meticulous plans...they go terribly awry and new ones are formed. XD also, welcome back to the land of reviewers!)

**le. flame **(so sweet! I love hearing that Molly isn't a mary-sue because I think my previous OC in No Chance was, so I wanted Molly to be really distinctive)

**crazy-wee-cat** (you were definitely having a psychic moment with Rose XD sorry about your studying! you'll do fine though, don't worry. not that I know what you're studying for, but still :] )

**okok123** (your poor friend! my friend tore her ACL and it was terrible. But I didn't, thank goodness; just my MCL, which I'm getting replaced next friday. and I'm glad Nate reminds you of your little brother; I'm trying to make him into a really relatable little brother character without being too average about it...)

**HGromanticsap** (the people who hate on your FanFiction are ridiculous. Please ignore them. I went to go poke around some of your work when you told me about those people-it's actually REALLY good XD)

**KateyPie12** (hahaha thank youu!)

**imachocoholic** (thank you! i love that so many people actually read that note about my knee...)

**WhereIsMyThumpThump** (I think the twins are adorabubble too. And I love the word adorabubble. Might make it to Fred Weasley's vocabulary at some point. XD I'm glad you liked Nate... I love him so much)

**foesizzle13** (ahahahahahahahahahahahahaha thank youu! for your loyalty, and your caps lock)

**Bunnies Galore** (if only Molly's dad was in a ditch! and Rose will not go unpunished, don't worry. 8] )

**ixamxeverywhere** (i'm so glad you like my chapters! I promise to tone down the intensity a little bit-Molly's got a dramatic life, but she's not on Days of Our Lives :) )

**xxsockixxx** (aha don't worry, I've been on the pain meds before, they won't throw me off my rocker completely, just for a bit of a loop. and I'm super happy you liked the molly-nate interaction; I'm near-obsessed with those two... :D )

**obsessiveHPotterfan** (thank you! I love the canon world of Harry Potter; Hogwarts seems amazing and the magic that JKR created is so intense that I love to incorporate it and keep it true in my stories. I just like my own characters too X] )

**Miss Lemci** (hahaa thank you for the well wishes! and the gale family wouldn't appreciate a hug, but I appreciate the thought 8D )

**studygirl10** (stoppp i want that to happen. I want to make that happen. I might. Just because I can see Fred being like "DAMMIT. Melt, witch." that's actually brilliant. Win. & thanks :] )

**hushpuppy22** (haha no ulcers, but thank yaa... :] )

**McGonagall is my Idol** (merci beaucoup! you're such a loyal reviewer...)

**whatthedevil'sgoingon** (I'm glad you like Fred! I like him too :) and thank you sooooo much for the well-wishes)

**Molivline** (okay, welllll it seems redundant to thank you after i sang your praises post-beta-ing, but once more AWESOME. AWESOME. SAUCOME. not sure how to spell that last bit, but roll with it.)

**Tmbookworm** (YOUR REVIEW IS SO LONG! I love it! thank you so much for caring that much about my story... and you read No Chance? You're the best. Hands down. Best. And congratulations on your high school acceptance... that's so cool! =] )

**Allen Pitt** (the room situation will be awkward, but Molly's Molly. she'll tough it out. and molly's breaking point is approaching... it's a bit of a way off though, so that'll have to wait. Thank you, so much for your continued reviewership!)

**ChibitaliaIzzy** (AHH You read No Chance! Thank you! and the twins are the best right? I love them so much-they're based on my cousins, who are adorable, and evil, at the same time. as are most children. and your worship is appreciated... thank youuu! )

**pottercullen-4ever** (Hahaha I'm glad you're back for this chapter! I love your reviews, they're so funny! and if her dad would disappear, I wouldn't have much of a story here... :) thanks for the review! )

**KaitlynEmmaRose** (Harry Potter jokes are my lifeblood... omg that one made my day. and I'm glad you liked my chapter :) I love how loyal and thorough your reviews are and they seriously make my day, because you've read this chapter by chapter and stuck with it, which hopefully means I'm doing _something _right...)

**angel2u** (haha I can't promise that because than I would have broken the super-secret-code-of-writers (which I just made up. just now.) but I'm so glad you're that attached to my characters... :) )

**FallenStar22** (I'm glad you like the length of my chapters! I worry sometimes that they're a little long, as in a little hard to tackle, but that's verrrrrry comforting XD )

**SpencerReidFan89** (Thank you! and Hermione will be coming up soon-ish, no worries. 8] PS you get super-pirate-ninja points for being so loyal. seriously. I think you're my first/one of my first reviewers every time)

**NotADreamNotYetANightmare** (MERLIN'S MAGICAL PANTIES will be featured as a line in the next chapter. why? because it's too awesome. because you're too ROCKIN OF A REVIEWER for me not to recognize that with some sort of magnificent tribute via quotation. ahahaha I'm glad you love Fred as much as I do. Because I do love him, a lot. and I will feel better soon, don't worry; this surgery is like step one, two and three of that road. XD)


	24. Rolling in the Deep

Rolling in the Deep

_The scars of your love remind me of us  
They keep me thinking that we almost had it all  
The scars of your love, they leave me breathless  
I can't help feeling  
We could have had it all.  
-Adele_

"Molly?" My best friend's voice came, bemused, from somewhere over the countertop in his kitchen, eight days later. I was sitting on the floor of the Potter's kitchen, in front of the oven. I was still unclear on how I'd wound up here, on the ground, with half of a bowl of brownie mix in my hands. But here I was.

It was Albus's birthday, and I was going make him brownies. Sera had agreed to occupy him for an hour, which I figured would be enough time for me to screw up one batch of brownies and whip up another. It was going to be his birthday present. I had no cash left, and despite numerous promises by the Weasleys to lend me money should I just _ask_, I wasn't big on charity and I knew that in the future, I would need money to buy books and new clothes etc. Besides, Al's birthday present for me had been blowing up the great hall with fireworks and writing above my head _birthday bitch_. I didn't think he was expecting something concrete. Thought, here, mattered more than substance.

"Yes, Frederick?" I asked, my voice impatient, looking up, a spoon in one hand, with my other arm wrapped around a bowl of brownie mix that was pressed into my stomach. My shirt had flecks of brownie mix all over it, and there was a straight line of the stuff where the bowl was pressed against my stomach. I couldn't cook, and I certainly keep myself clean.

Fred leaned over the countertop, his red head popping over the oven; he was lying on his chest on the countertop. "You're sitting on the floor." He noted. I nodded; that was true. "You're covered in brownie mix." His voice was still flat, and these were all statements, rather than questions, but I still nodded. "You're cooking…" His voice drifted off. I frowned at him, before I looked back down at my brownie bowl. I had to stir this until it was lumpless. Right? I wasn't sure. Mum had told me that there was supposed to be no lumps in brownie mix. I thought. Unless she'd told me that about cake mix? "Are you having a nervous breakdown?" Fred asked me finally, and my gaze flicked back up to me as I frowned.

"No." I told him, glancing up impatiently. "Brownies are by no means an indicator of a nervous breakdown." I paused. "Well, no, actually they are. But making them isn't. Eating them might be…but since I'm not doing that—"

"I mean, you're sitting on the floor and you're covered in brownie mix." Fred said. "It's looking pretty breakdown-y." He paused. "Since you are not my girlfriend and thus your emotional issues are not my problem, I'm getting Albus." He said after a moment, disappearing back over the counter. I heard his footsteps—louder because he still had his snowboots on—start towards the door.

"No!" I growled out, almost pushing my brownies away, but then I hesitated; was I allowed to not stir them once I'd stopped? It didn't matter, because Fred's footsteps stopped. I started half-hazardly stirring with one hand, pulling the bowl back into my lap. I glared in the direction of where Fred had been a moment ago, waiting silently to see if Fred would sneak out the door or come back. And thirty seconds later, his head popped back over the countertop.

"Why?" He asked.

"Birthday brownies." I said shortly.

Fred made a noise caught between irritation and confusion, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked down at me. "You're making Albus birthday brownies?" He asked after a second. I nodded. His frown increased, and I sighed, putting down my birthday brownie bowl.

"Is that not enough?" I asked uncertainly. Fred sighed in frustration, hanging his head over the counter so his forehead hit the drawer handle on the drawer below the counter. He groaned, lifting his head and squinching one of his arms free so he could rub the sore sport on his forehead, looking unhappy.

"This is why I hate you and Albus together." Fred said to me firmly, frowning. "You turn sappy. And girlfriend-y, and you care about birthdays, and you're—not—Molly!" I blinked at him, then glared. Fred look nervous, and I looked down to my birthday brownie bowl. I grabbed the spoon, taking a spoonful of semi-lumpy brownie mix and turning it back to Fred. And then I carefully flicked it at him. And it landed comfortably in his hair.

"Don't call me _sappy_." I said disgustedly, as I resumed stirring. Fred beamed at me as the brownie mix dripped onto his forehead, slowly seeping, like sludge, towards his eyebrows.

"Never again, Princess." He said sweetly.

"And don't call me princess."

"Alright." Fred said in a condescending tone. He paused. "But this whole scene does not bode well, my dear. You look like you're having a mental breakdown and since I happen to know that you cook with the proficiency of a walrus—"

"Fred, never compare girls to walruses." I interrupted, my voice stern. "I've told you this before."

"—this definitely could be an indicator of poor mental health." Fred continued, not heeding my words. "Albus needs to fix this." He disappeared again over the countertop, and I sighed exasperatedly.

"Blorgh!" I exclaimed. "No—Frederick—do not get Albus!" I called after him, but I wasn't willing to stop stirring. Fred's snowboots stomped out of the kitchen, his feet hard against the ground, and I sighed, leaning back against the countertop behind me and bringing my knees up, so I could balance the brownie bowl between my thighs and my stomach. Then I used my free hand, the one that wasn't stirring, to move my hair out of my face—but there was brownie mix on my hand, and now it was on my forehead and my face. Argh. I just wanted to give Albus a nice birthday thing. And I couldn't get him a gift because I had no money and I hated charity and the Weasleys were already _housing _me. I couldn't infringe on them anymore. And big elaborate firework-pranks weren't my style. So I was making him birthday brownies in the shape of an A, for Albus. I even had all the candles and I had sprinkles I was going to stir in so there would be some color in the middle—I'd tried, here.

What freaked me out more about this gift was the primary fear that was born in this issue of birthday events and whether or not they were good enough. Because in order for something to need to be good enough, Albus had to deserve that. And that brought me was something that Nate had said to me when I'd visited Nottingham, that weekend at the beginning of break. He'd accused me of loving Albus. Which I had deemed blatantly false, end of story.

But it'd been eating at me.

And here, in the most alarming of new evidence, was the fact that I was worry about the quality of my birthday present to Albus. Big girl Molly—Molly who saved her family and kept her head on straight and made sure her little brother passed his classes—didn't worry about trivial things like quality of birthday presents. Consider yourself lucky that you even _got_ birthday present. And yet, Big Girl Molly was sitting on the floor of her boyfriend's kitchen, trying to make birthday brownies without lumps.

"Molly?" Fred's voice, and snow boots, returned loudly, with another pair of shoes on the tiled kitchen floor. I sighed irritatedly.

"Yes, Fredrick?" I asked, my voice floating over the countertop.

There was a pause. "I told you she was sitting on the floor—" I heard Fred mutter finally, his voice low.

"Molly?" Albus ducked around the counter, crossing his arms across his chest. I looked uncertainly up at my boyfriend, my eyes wide, and he crossed to where I was sitting to sink to the ground beside me. He settled himself there before he pressed his lips together, obviously suppressing a smile. He thought I was being weird. "Hi love. Whatcha doing?"

"Birthday Brownies." I said shortly. He nodded, his smile breaking through now. It frustrated me, and I felt a fluttery feeling near my heart that made me angry; Molly Gale didn't _flutter_. "Sera was supposed to be occupying you until I finished brownie-making, because I knew it would take me a long time because I can't cook for my life—" The words were spilling out before I could stop them, so rather than try to filter the words, I just stopped them. No more words.

"You're making me birthday brownies." He said slowly, eying the bowl of brownie mix. His gaze flicked up to my face, looking amused. I stopped stirring, finally, and let my tired hands drop to my sides. "You don't have to make me birthday brownies." He told me, his voice soft.

"They're your present." I told him, shrugging a little.

"There are easier presents." He pointed out. He smiled a little when I looked up at him. "Especially for you, Miss Molly, the girl who can't cook."

"I can't buy you a present." I confessed softly to him, my eyebrows coming together. Albus nodded once, thoughtfully.

"I don't need a present." He murmured.

"I have to do _something _for your birthday." I responded. Albus raised his eyebrows, nodding once.

"You're going to burn down my house, if that ever makes it into the oven." He pointed out, nodding to the birthday brownie bowl. I looked down at it. Albus's fingers ghosted over my forehead as he carefully wiped a bit of brownie mix out of my hair. "C'mon, love. My grandmother's making me a cake for tonight, we're going out to a family dinner." I looked up at him, and he flashed me a grin. "And there is the added plus that my house will still be standing at the end of the night."

"But, I have to do something for your birthday." I insisted, and Albus shrugged.

"Birthdays are overrated, Miss Molly." He told me softly. "I was born. So what?" He shrugged. "I'd rather be treated nicely all year round than have people be really nice one day a year and just whatever the rest of the year." Albus studied me for a moment, before he continued, smiling at me. "Besides, I consider it…something like a present that you're here." He paused, blushing a little; I felt a blush claw at my own face. "It took us forever to get together because stuff has been screwy, and…you got to be here for my birthday." He shrugged. "You're what I want for my birthday." His voice was simple, which took any thought that what he was saying was just a sappy declaration away. I bit my lip, then leaned forward, slipping a hand to the back of his neck, tugging his head towards me. I kissed him carefully, my eyes shutting for a moment, and he smiled against my lips; I felt a surge of something in my heart, and the question of what Nate had said slipped under my skin again. I cared about Albus, a lot. Did I love him?

He pulled back a few seconds later, and I moved my hand from the back of his neck, bringing it up to brush his bangs off his forehead. "You're incredible." The words left my lips before I could stop them, and as soon as they had, I blushed scarlet, closing my eyes as I ducked my head, pulling away.

"Hey, hey." Albus murmured, reaching out and grabbing my hand, his thumb running over my knuckles. I looked up at him, my face hardening reflexively, and Albus grinned at me, looking like it was Christmas morning. "You're incredible too." He told me with a shrug. I grinned. "Now that we've got that settled," Al said, still smiling. "Let's get out of the kitchen before you hurt yourself."

"I'm not going to _hurt _myself…" I muttered, but when Al reached forward to take the birthday brownie bowl from me, I didn't protest. He lifted it from my arms, then reached up and slipped it onto the countertop above our heads. He carefully pushed himself up so he was standing, and then he reached down, offering me a hand up. I glared resentfully up at him, but took his hand, letting him help me up. I carefully straightened up, frowning down at my shirt; the middle of it was caked with brownie mix. Gross.

"You've saved Molly from her brownie-mix grave!" Fred said, beaming, to Albus; he was still standing behind the countertop. There was still brownie mix in his hair, and on his forehead, and I flashed him a half of a grin, before I turned, grinning, to the brownie mix bowl. I reached into it, grabbing a handful of mix, and turned back to Fred, chucking it at him. The brownie mix sailed beautifully through the air before it landed with a splat-sound on his shirt and neck.

Fred froze for a moment, before he lifted his head to pout like a child at me. Albus blinked, staring at his cousin for a moment before he burst out laughing. Fred scooped some of the brownie mix off his shirt and threw it back—except Fred missed me, and hit Albus.

"You're dead." Albus said, still grinning as he turned, grabbing a handful of brownie mix and whipping it at Fred. Fred dodged it, and it collided with the wall behind him, as the door to the kitchen swung open. We froze, as Teddy Lupin walked in.

"Guys." Teddy said irritatedly as he stopped in the doorway. "Come on. You have to clean this up."

"Shot not." I said immediately.

"And it's my birthday, so…" Albus beamed at Fred. "Have fun, Frederick!"

"You have to help me." Fred said firmly to me.

"Are you disrespecting the rules of _shot not_?" I asked, my eyes narrowed as I looked seriously at Fred. Fred glared at me, cursing under his breath. I thought shot-not was sort of ridiculous-needless to say, it didn't happen too much in the Gale household. But Fred and Albus thought of it like their religion. "That's what I thought." I murmured, smirking, and Albus pulled me against his brownie-mix-y self.

I grabbed his hand, pulling Albus towards the entrance to the kitchen, where Teddy still stood, looking amused. I flashed Fred a half a smile.

"Have fun!"

* * *

"Is this really what you guys do for fun?" I asked as I crossed my legs in the Potters' back yard, two days later. The various Weasley family members (Roxy, Fred, Albus, James, Lily, Victoire, Sera and Teddy) were playing Quidditch, and since I wasn't interest in Quidditch, I was sitting beside where Albus's uncle Percy's daughter Molly was standing. The four-year-old was my charge because her mum was pregnant and her dad was at work so Fred's mum had volunteered to watch her and I'd volunteered to give Mrs. Weasley a break. She was doing too many nice things for me. I had to even us out, somehow.

Besides, Molly was a pretty easy kid to take care of. She was a little bit Cormac-like, in that she was really intelligent, and she had glasses that were a little too big for her face. But, as perhaps the most stubborn little girl I'd ever met, she insisted that no one change them because they'd been her dad's, and she wanted nothing more than to be just like him. It was adorable, in a weird, smarty-pants kind of way.

"Quidditch is fantastic." Sera called down to me with a grin; everyone was already in the air, save Louis Weasley, who was going to release the bludgers and snitch and then come sit. They were only about ten feet up, though, so it wasn't hard to hear them. "Why don't you like it?"

"Never quite took to it." I told Sera, smiling tightly at her.

"When she says that," Albus said, grinning down at me, and I shot him a death look; he continued, at danger to himself, "she means that her first year, in flying class, she was terrible, and—" he stopped, the grin dropping from his face. The end of that story involved Rose saving me. We still weren't used to Rose being taboo. We only realized it when we got to her actual name.

None of us had seen or heard from Rose since we'd gotten out for break. She hadn't been at Albus's birthday dinner (I had a feeling that Albus had simply put his foot down on that, and since it'd been his birthday, his parents couldn't exactly argue) and other than that, we weren't willing to see her. The papers kept publishing stories, but they were half-assed, and I had only been in corners of the last episode of Witch Weekly. No one had anything to go off of, now.

"If that was the whole story, that wasn't worth telling." James said flatly.

"Albus forgot Rose was in it." I said, my voice hard as I looked away from the kids. I looked around, trying to find something else to focus on: Molly Weasley (the second) was standing beside me, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot and pushing her glasses up her nose every minute or so. "You want to sit down, sweetheart?" I asked. Molly eyed me wearily for a moment.

"Where would I sit?" Molly tested, frowning at the ground as she pushed her glasses up her nose. I tilted my head to the side.

"You could sit on my lap." I offered, keeping my cutesy tone at bay. Molly was a serious little girl. She didn't like it when people talked down to her. In a way, she reminded me of myself, but I'd been a really happy kid; it was only now that I had forty different problems on my plate that I was the angriest kid on the planet. "Or on the ground." The Potters' backyard was covered in snow, but Teddy had melted a patch of ground for us to sit on and I'd spread a blanket so my butt wouldn't freeze.

She considered her options for a moment, her eyebrows furrowed. "Your lap would be warmer." She said firmly, turning and plopping herself in my lap. I smothered laughter, letting my arms rest loosely around her.

"Mollilicious?" Fred called out, and I glanced up; he was hanging upside down from his broom, a smile on his face. I snorted in laughter.

"Yes, Frederick Percival Weasley?" I asked, beaming up at him.

"Percival is my daddy's name." Molly told me, glancing up at me.

"My daddy's name is Roger." I told her. She nodded, her eyes solemn on my face. She didn't know anything about my dad, but she was just a solemn child.

"We have matching names." She told me after a moment.

"We do." I agreed. "Molly is a great name."

"Yes." She said the word very seriously before she turned back to her cousins, determinedly sticking her thumb in her mouth and tucking her head under my chin.

"Alright, guys, I'd really like to sit down, so we're getting started." Louis said firmly to his hovering family members. "Remember the rules; stay between where Molly Squared is sitting—"

"Do not call us that." I said flatly, but it went ignored.

"—and the pond," Louis pointed to the small pond that came right before the woods that isolated the Potter estate, "and between the tree house and the pool." Louis pointed to both of those, as well. "Do not swing bats at fellow players, and—"

"We get it." James groaned. Louis glared at him.

"Final reminder, these are real bludgers." Louis said finally. "Aunt Ginny let us borrow them. So be careful."

"I think I'll wildly hit them towards random passersby." Fred said thoughtfully.

"Fine. Kill each other for all I care. Have fun." Louis grumbled, opening the chest and letting the bludgers and snitch soar into their. He turned and walked over to Molly and me, and the game started before us as he sank down beside me. "I don't understand why they like Quidditch." He said, shaking his head. "It's dangerous. And the fact that it's playing in the air makes it _more_ dangerous." Louis turned to me, and looked down at Molly on my lap. "But you don't like it either, do you, sweet?" Molly shook her head, her stringy brown hair tickling my neck. "Good. Don't want to be the odd one out." Louis said, nodding as if he and Molly were in a secret club. Molly pulled her thumb out of her mouth and held up her other hand.

"High five." She offered seriously. Louis grinned, high fiving her, and I chuckled. She offered me the same high five, sticking her other hand's thumb in her mouth, and I hit it softly. She smiled a little around her thumb before she settled back against me.

"You're good with her." Louis said to me, glancing up at me with a kind smile. I liked Louis Weasley enough; even though he was a year older than me, he'd gone out of his way to look out for Rose and me our first year.

"My baby sister is three years older than her." I said, smiling a little uncertainly at him.

"I didn't realize you had siblings other than Cormac." Louis said, raising his eyebrows.

"I'm the oldest of five." I admitted, shrugging a little. "Is it just you and Victoire in your family, or…"

"I'm the youngest of three." Louis admitted, looking a little uncomfortable.

"Three?" I asked, raising my eyebrows; I spent enough time with this family for one of them to go unnoticed to be a big deal. "Victoire, and…"

"Dominique." He supplied. He didn't say anything else, and I didn't push. Silence stretched between us, and I looked back to the game before us. James knocked the bludger towards Fred (they were on different teams, here) and Fred hit it back to him, glaring. "You were Rose's friend, right?" He asked.

"Yeah." I muttered, glancing towards him. "But she imploded so now she's out."

"She did kind of implode." Louis agreed. "Hermione and Ron's sanity went with her. I know they weren't great guardians—" I shrugged. "You're awfully talkative." He noted sarcastically, but he was smiling a little.

"I'm a quiet person if I don't know you well." I admitted, turning to him with a small smile. "It's not personal." I turned back to the game, eying the teams. Sera had the quaffle, but Lily Potter was only a foot from her and reaching for it, and James and Fred were engaged in some sort of beater-battle to the death. Albus was quickly flying around the edges of the pitch, and a little higher than everyone else; I could tell he hadn't seen the snitch yet. He wasn't going in any specific direction, just sort of wandering, even if it was faster than normal. He didn't really want to be playing Quidditch, but Fred had dragged him into it by calling him a wimp, which had worked surprisingly well. Teenage boys were sort of ridiculous.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" Molly asked me, and I looked down at the little girl, my eyebrows shooting up. I didn't immediately respond, and she frowned at me. "Mollllllllly." She dragged out the 'l' in my name, and I smiled a little.

"Albus." I told her after a moment. "I'm dating your cousin Albus."

"Oh." She said firmly, looking back to the Quidditch game. I chuckled, glancing up at Louis, before Molly twisted to look up at me. "But you live with Fred."

"Indeed I do." I said, smiling at her. "He's my best friend."

"That's a sad fact." Louis murmured, and I chuckled, glancing up at him with a grin.

Fred shouting my name drew my attention back to the Quidditch game before me, even as Molly shifted in my lap as she grabbed my shirt and tugged, trying to get my attention. I glanced down to her and she pointed; I followed her finger to the game, and then my eyes refocused on the bludger that was coming towards us. It had obviously sped past Fred—who was looking panicked—and was now hurtling towards Molly and me. It was close and moving fast—I barely had time to put my hand on Molly's head, shoving her down, before the bludger smacked off my hand on Molly's hand—I felt it break, and a cry like a wounded animal left my mouth—before it skidded towards my face and clipped my cheek, just below my eye.

And from then on, everything is sort of a blur. I only have flashes of memory after that, and I can assume that means that I wasn't properly out cold. I was just—hazy, or something. One moment Albus was shouting and the next someone's cold hand was tapping my face, trying to make me more alert; next up, I heard a voice I recognized but couldn't quite place.

And suddenly, I was conscious.

I blinked at the man in front of me as my eyes slid into focus; Wesley Finnigan was standing in front of me, a half a smile on his face as he stood with his wand pressed to my temple. I was sitting—sort of, Wes's hand was solidly on my shoulder, keeping me upright—on a cot. "Hey kiddo." He said warmly. "Glad to have you back with us." I stared at him for a second, before a throbbing pain made itself evident in my hand and my face. I swallowed. "Think you can stay upright?" He asked.

"Yeah," I said uncertainly. Wes released my shoulder, and I didn't topple over; there was a small cheer behind Wes, and I blinked, looking past Wes to the rest of the room I was in. Fred's dad, Fred, and Mrs. Potter were standing behind him. Fred looked relieved, though his face was a little paler than usual, and Mr. Weasley was grinning at me; Mrs. Potter reached over to ruffle her nephew's hair.

"You didn't kill your best friend!" She said happily to Fred. Fred flashed his aunt a glare, before he looked back to me, his eyes a little wider than usual.

"Molly was never in danger of dying." Wes said, flashing a comforting smile to Fred as he crossed the room to a small metal stand in the corner; he grabbed a plastic bag from on top and then opened a large drawer that took up half the stand. He scooped ice out of the drawer into the plastic bag. "She wasn't even properly unconscious, just knocked silly."

"Official medical terminology, 'knocked silly.'" Mrs. Potter said, laughing a little.

"I'm so glad I'm spending all this money training to be a healer, learning these fancy words." Wes agreed.

"You okay?" Fred asked me, and his voice was uncharacteristically shaky. I blinked.

"Are you?" I asked uncertainly, looking at him. He stared at me for a long moment.

"I hit the bludger." Fred blurted out. "I'm so sorry. I hit it at James—he didn't hit it back—I hit it too hard though—"

"It was an accident." I muttered, shrugging a little; my hand throbbed, and I winced, pulling it closer to me. I realized, looking down at it, that it was wrapped a few times in tape. "Aren't you going to heal my hand?" My voice was purely curious.

"In like thirty minutes." Wes agreed, coming back to me and offering the bag of ice. "Hold this to your face." He instructed, and I took it with my good hand, pressing it my cheek. He turned away from me, going back to the metal stand and opening a drawer, pulling out a vial of a pleasantly pink potion. "There was a massive portkey accident as well as twenty four injuries from a fight at the Cannons game, so the whole hospital is a little swamped—" He pulled the stopper out of the vial, throwing it across the room into the small garbage can beside the stand, "you've got a triage color and number—you're green, that means I'll probably get to you in an hour—" He turned back to me, offering the vial. I took it from him, holding it to my lips and tilting my head back; I swallowed the stuff in two gulps, before passing the empty vial to Wes, who threw it out. "That'll get rid of the pain—don't poke your hand or your face, mind you, because it's not _numbing _that, but it won't be half so bad as it is now." He flashed me another grin, and I exhaled shortly. I wasn't attracted to him, but I could see why Wes Finnigan had won Witch Weekly's most charming smile award more times and younger than anyone before. "Questions?"

"Where's Albus?" I said firmly. I was fairly sure that question wasn't for Wes, but I didn't really care, at this point.

"Getting Nate." Fred said shortly. I blinked, before glared as best I could; it sent a twinge of pain through my cheek, though it already hurt less than it had before, and my hand wasn't throbbing. That potion was no joke.

"No." I ground out angrily, my gaze flying to my best friend. "_Hell _no."

"Eh—why are you madder about this than me breaking your hand and your face?" Fred demanded, looking alarmed; he was a little fluttery now. I got the sense he really did feel properly guilty about having hit the bludger, even though that clearly hadn't been on purpose. "We didn't want to." Fred continued after a moment, looking truly pained. "Aunt Ginny made us—"

My gaze zeroed on my boyfriend's mother, who straightened up, raising her eyebrows. "Mrs. Potter." I said firmly. "This—can't happen. Nate isn't—he's got a shitload on his plate and I am the big sister. This doesn't work this way. He doesn't show up when I get hurt—he's got things to do and I don't need taking care of. Don't get him."

"I understand what you're saying, kid," Mr. Weasley said gently. "But he's your brother. Family shows up when—"

"Not. My. Family." I said in a steely voice to Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Potter. There were a few beats of silence in the room before Fred glanced at his father resentfully.

"I _told _you…" He muttered. Mr. Weasley frowned at his son.

"Molly, are you telling me he won't want to be here?" Mrs. Potter asked carefully.

"No—" I said in a strangled voice, glaring at her, but I fell silent. I was too achy and tired to have this argument right now. She'd see when he got here.

There was an awkward silence at this point; Mr. Weasley looked pretty impressed at how irritated I was. Fred looked back to me. "You're sure you're okay, right?" He demanded, looking a little panicked. "I will not be responsible for killing Mollilicious."

"I promise you didn't kill her." Wes told him, smiling at him. "However, you probably _did _give her the mother of all black eyes…" Wes said sympathetically to me. "I have to go if you've got no questions, but I'll be back." I shook my head once, and Wes ducked out the door. Fred, meanwhile, ducked his head, covering his face with his hands

"Albus is going to kill me." Fred groaned into his hands.

"No, Nate's going to kill you." I told him, flashing him a half of a sarcastic smile. Fred looked up at me.

"Shit, that's true." Fred muttered, looking paler. "Ah, f—" He cut himself off, glancing at his dad. "Fudge." He muttered.

"Yes, Fred." Mr. Weasley agreed, smothering a grin. "Fudge."

Someone knocked on the door and I glanced towards it. Mrs. Potter went to the door carefully opening it and checking who was outside before she pulled back, opening the door. Nate and Albus stood in the doorway. Nate was scowling darkly; his hook was up, throwing his face into shadow, and he had his hands stuffed in his pockets. He was mad.

He relaxed an inch when he saw me, coming forward, and I just looked at him tiredly. I'd seen him more often in the last few weeks than I had in the whole length of time before that. His eyes were dark, and I saw a hint of a fading black eye; had he gotten in another fight with Scott?

"I tried to convince them not to get you." I said after a moment. Nate didn't react.

"Mum's in the hallway." He said after a moment. I inhaled slowly. This is what Nate and I did. We traded information. Hugs and love and protectiveness could come later. Because this—this was bad. This was worse. "Mrs. Weasel brought her."

"Weasley." Fred muttered from the corner; Nate spun to glare at him angrily, and Fred looking frightened for a moment.

"Isn't it _your_ fault my sister is in the hospital?" Nate hissed at him, sounding as angry as I'd ever heard him. Fred didn't respond, and Nate snorted derisively. "Coward." He muttered, turning back to me. I raised my eyebrows. "I hate him." He said after a second.

"I was confused." I murmured dryly. "Why did Mrs. Weasley bring _Mum_ of all people?"

"Because Mum wanted to come and when I tried to explain that you and she weren't—on—good terms, Mrs. Weasley said that kids who were sick wanted their mothers. Even if they'd been estranged." Nate's words were flat, and I felt a surge of frustration. My mum wasn't like that, I wasn't like that. I hated this. Every time other people looked at my family dynamic, it looked screwy, so they tried to fix it. But bringing Mum here was fixing the symptoms. Not the problem.

"I don't want to see her." I said lowly.

"I don't either, and I live with the woman." Nate murmured. I felt sympathy flood me at the truth in those words. I got to hate my parents from afar. Nate had it worse. I slid off the table carefully, cradling my broken hand, and then I stepped closer to him, hugging him tightly. Nate hesitated, then hugged me back. I pulled back after a second. "What happened? Albus just told me there was some sort of sporting accident and Fred did something—"

"Fred hit a bludger, he didn't mean for it to hit me." I muttered, shrugging, before I reached up, pushing Nate's hood back. He frowned, but didn't put it back up.

"Funny, I've heard the same explanation for Dad." Nate said sarcastically, and I glared at him.

"You're hysterical." I muttered, before my gaze flicked to the people in the corner of the room. The adults were watching us with fascination; Albus just looked like he was on the edge of freaking out, and Fred looked uncomfortable. I was being rude—polite people, people who'd been raised in some kind of acceptable manner, would have introduced their little brother.

"Nate, these are—people you should meet." I said shortly, turning him around. I looked at them, my eyes stinging. It'd taken me no time at all to slip back into this girl; the evil Molly. The one my parents had turned me into. I loved Nate more than anyone else on the planet, but I hated how every time I saw him, this was the girl who came out. I was angry and I bit back and all I ever did was glare. I had no alliances but my family. I didn't care for anyone else. I felt like I had Multiple Personality Disorder or something—one side was normal and had a boyfriend and a nice family who wanted to keep her, and the other was a freak who couldn't keep her head on straight, she was so angry.

"I'm Albus's mum, Ginny Weasley Potter." Mrs. Potter said, stepping forward with a smile and forcing me out of my thoughts; Nate nodded to her, shaking her hand.

"Nathanial Gale." Nate murmured. "Molly's brother."

"I thought Molly was the oldest." Mrs. Potter said interestedly, pulling back, her pleasant smile still in place. Nate still wasn't smiling.

"I'm like six inches taller than her, but she's eleven months older." Nate said quietly. Mrs. Potter nodded but didn't respond. I stepped up beside Natey, putting a hand on his back.

"That's Mr. Weasley—he's married to Mrs. Weasley, they're Fred's parents. He's my other legal guardian." I told Nate softly.

"Strictly speaking, you're actually legally still Hermione and Ron's, but we're not enforcing that." Mr. Weasley said easily. He stepped forward, shaking Nate's hand. "Nice to meet you."

"You too." Nate said shortly.

"And you know Fred." I said, shrugging. Nate flashed Fred a glare, and I smothered a smile, ducking my head. Nate waited until I looked back up at him to stop glaring at Fred, looking back down at me.

"Mum's still in the hallway." He reminded me. "You're avoiding her." I felt a flare of frustration.

"You have a black eye." I told him, my eyes sharp, but letting my tone match his. "You're avoiding that." Nate looked away, running a hand over his hair once, before he looked back down at me; we both tried to ignore the way that the air in the room had turned cold as Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Potter realized that there was something wrong. There was always something wrong in my family.

"Scott." He said tonelessly, after a moment.

"That's what you said in November." I muttered, before I passed him, holding my hand to my chest. I let my good hand, full of ice, press back to my face, as I slipped out the door, into the hallway. Mr. Potter, Mrs. Weasley, James Potter, Sera Finnigan, and Teddy Lupin were all standing in the hallway. As was my mother.

The group looked up at me, but I didn't have eyes for anyone but my mother, who smiled shakily at me. I felt a flare of anger for her, so fierce that it didn't form thoughts, just make me want to slap her, but I couldn't, not here.

"Mum." I said tonelessly, walking up to her.

"Sweetheart, it's so lovely to see you." She said me, clutching her handbag tightly. My mother was wearing a pair of khakis, and a light pink button up shirt that I'd gotten her for mother's day when I was ten. Her hair—a light brown that passed for caramel blond, sometimes—was back in a loose ponytail, and her eyes, which were dark like Nate's, swirled sadly at me.

"What are you doing here?" I murmured.

"Molly—" Mrs. Weasley said, but I shot her an angry look, and she fell silent, looking shocked. I looked back to my mother, who was looking sad and scared.

"I wanted to see my daughter when she was hurt." Mum said to me, reaching forward to shaking tuck a few pieces of hair behind my ear. I didn't move a muscle, and she had the nerve to look offended; behind me, I heard other people filter into the hallway. Nate moved up beside me, and I didn't look at him, but I felt the anger pulsing off of him.

"Too public." Nate murmured to me.

"Let's talk in your room." Mum proposed. I swallowed my automatic rejection of that idea, a thousand angry, explicit retorts jumping to my tongue. Instead, I turned, passing Fred and Albus without a glance as I ducked back into my room, holding the door for Nate and my mother before I closed it behind her.

And then it was just us three.

"Why are you here, Mum?" I demanded after a moment, my voice rough. "It's been months since we've talked."

"That is not my fault." She said, childishly. "I wrote you the letter."

"I didn't read it." I told her flatly. Hurt flashed over her expression, and she looked at Nate, appealing for help. Nate just leaned against the wall. He was happy to let me run point on this one.

"Why not?" She asked finally, looking to me. I stared at her. Why hadn't I read the letter? Because I was a coward, and because I didn't want to hear it. What would Mum have said to make it better? Nothing. There was no making it better. I didn't need an apology. I needed different parents.

"Because I'm not doing this anymore, Mum." The words left me, hoarse and angry and desperate. "I'm at the end of my line." I shook my head, staring at her. "Dad hurt me. Twice. He kicked me out. He disowned me." I shook my head. "And you didn't _do _anything."

"No, sweetie—"

"No." Nate said angrily, his voice louder than it had to be. "This isn't an excuse thing. You let Dad hurt her." Mum stared at him, her gaze growing damper. Argh. She was going to cry.

"I love you all!" My mum protested, tearfully. I shook my head.

"That doesn't matter." I said quietly, my voice harsh. "How could it, anymore? Your love is worth nothing. You don't stand up for us, you only cry and watch from afar." I swallowed, straightening up. "And the thing that makes it—deplorable—is you don't love Dad. You've been cheating on Dad, we know. With Mr. Causer." Mum gaped at us, glancing at Nate; Nate looked away, and I stepped forward, blocking my brother from view, forcing Mum to look at me. "You don't love Dad, and you let him hurt us, who you love. Does that make sense, Mum?"

"I love your father." Mum responded harshly.

"So you chose to just fuck around with my best friend's dad?" Nate shot back; I glanced back at him. He looked livid. "You couldn't let me have a corner of my life that was normal?" He demanded. "What the fuck is wrong with you? You let Dad disown Molly, you let Dad hurt us, and you're bringing my single friendship to its knees. _What the fuck is wrong with you_?"

Mum said nothing to this, so I continued, because this was frustrating and I was getting too angry too fast. "Make a goddamned choice, and stop running away to Mr. Causer and pretending that this isn't happening, because it is." I stared at her. "And you're losing, fast." I saw a flash of something in Mum's eyes, and I plowed on, hoping to leap on it. "I don't trust you anymore. I will never trust you again. Nate either." She looked horrified at this, but hurting her wasn't the point—had never been the point. "But help us, and Cal and Ellie and Cormac—they don't have to be like us."

Silence stretched in the room, and Mum stared at us, her gaze flicking from one of us to the other, and back. She finally stumbled back to the chair beside the cot I'd been sitting on, and sank down in it, and I felt a surge of annoyance. Mum was a weak person. She needed others to do the hard stuff. She needed things not to go wrong, because she couldn't fix them.

"What do I do?" Mum's voice was tremulous and shaky, suddenly, all the way across the room. I glanced back at Nate; he was looking at me. Alright, I was leading this.

"I need you to talk to Mr. Causer about leaving Dad." I said firmly.

"I love Roger!" She protested, looking up at me tearfully; her voice was tragic, as if she were the subject of some great love story. I felt something break inside me; I'd spent months not reading that letter because if I never read it, maybe it said the right thing. Maybe it didn't—it probably didn't—but if it did, that meant that maybe there was a magic fix right around the corner. And here Mum was, crying and admitting she loved my father. There was no fix. Mum had no idea what she was doing and worse, she wasn't even trying anymore. "We're…well, we're catholic. He's catholic, sweetheart. We don't just divorce over every rough patch—"

"For the love of God!" Nate spun around and tore out the room, opening the door so hard that it slammed against the wall. I threw a withering glare at my mother.

"You're a terrible person." I hissed at her. "A terrible mother, sure, but a terrible person. And you don't even know it." I shook my head, avoiding the horrible look on her face; I took off out the door, wincing at the jostling of my hand.

I stepped into the hallway, and spotted my brother almost immediately; he had sunk down against the wall, and his face was in his hands; down the hallway, the Weasleys and the Potters were silent, and staring at us. I didn't even spare them a glance, crossing to my brother and crouching down beside him carefully. I rested my bad hand on my knee, putting the ice on it so I could run a hand over Nate's hair.

"If you need me at home, I'll come." I promised, my voice clear. I heard a rustle from the crowd down the hall; Albus and company might have heard the offer. "I'll come home, I'll kick Dad out, I'll do whatever you want—"

"I'm don't know what I want." Nate's voice was thick when he looked up at me, and I saw how angry he was. How dare our parents do this to him? "I want to kill Mum. I want to beat Dad with a fucking bat." He shook his head. "A rough patch. Did you hear her? A rough patch?" Nate's voice cracked. "What is wrong with her?"

"I'll come home." I said, my stomach hurting even as the words left my lips. Albus and Fred weren't home. I hadn't even taken my OWLs. I could be a waitress in the Wizarding World, maybe, without OWLs. This would destroy my future. But my present was falling apart as was.

"Not yet." Nate muttered. "It's not—Dad's not—" he shook his head. "But soon."

"The second you need me." I murmured. "I'll leave school, and the Weasleys agreed to take care of Cormac. I will come home and get—I will fix this."

"How?" Nate demanded, his voice cutting me. He didn't believe I could fix this. I blinked, a lump rising in my throat. "What do you know that I don't, what do you want that I don't? I have been taking blow after blow this year and I can't—I can't take anymore, Molly. If I thought there was a way out, I would do it." He shook his head. "Don't come home. If things get worse—I'll call you. But—" He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, "there's no point in dragging you down with me, at this point." We both fell silent, and Nate's gaze flicking behind me, and I glanced back; the door was opening, and Mum walked out, looking tearfully at us.

"Get away from us." I murmured, my words weighted with the dark glare I was flashing at her.

"I love you. You're my daughter." She told me. My stomach clenched; the last time I'd seen my dad, he'd said nearly the opposite of that. That'd hurt too, but somehow, this hurt more. I didn't want to be my mother's daughter, I wanted nothing to do with her. I was half her, though. Half of me was weak like her, silly and cowardly. And half of me was my father. That idea made me panic; I was an angry person, I knew that. Had that been inherited from my dad, though? Or just developed as a reaction?

"God, how I wish that weren't true." I said the words deliberately, letting them deliver the heaviest blow they could; as it was, I saw my mother take a half step back, and her hand found the wall, bracing herself against it.

I pushed myself up carefully, my hand throbbing and my face throbbing. I winced as my hand jostled; I grimaced, but looked up at the Weasleys that were standing there. During our conversation inside the room, Teddy and James and Sera had gone away, but Al's parents, Fred's parents, and Al and Fred themselves were still there, watching us. I couldn't quite look at the Weasleys or the Potters, or even Fred; instead I looked at Albus. He was watching me, his eyes dark and swirling despite their bright green color. Even just looking at him comfort inched into my stomach; that was bad. The corner of my mouth twitched into a frown, and Albus stepped forward, crossing the space between where his family was and where mine was. He wrapped his arms tightly around me, and I hugged him back, pressing my face into his shoulder; I exhaled shakily, warding off a sob.

I would not cry. I was not weak like my mother.

Albus was whispering something into my hair, but I didn't care; his words blurred together in my exhaustion. I didn't want these parents, I didn't want this family, I didn't want to give up Hogwarts, or Albus, or Fred. But every moment, I was on the verge of losing them, because Nate needed me and I couldn't let him drown in this.

Albus pulled back after a moment, and I looked up at him miserably; he leaned forward, brushing a kiss against my lips. I let the moment of happiness, that brief surge of perfection, blot out everything else for a half a second. Then Albus pulled away, lifting a hand to my face and brushing my hair behind my ear. Al finally let his hand drop to grab mine, before he looked down at my little brother, who was watching us like we were some really disgusting bug. Despite everything—despite my mother—Nate was still this bothered by my relationship. Some things never changed.

I chuckled a little, letting the moment of laughter pull me away from the Al offered him a hand up. Nate hesitated, then accepted it, and Albus helped my brother, who had an inch on him, maybe two, to his feet.

"Thanks, man." Nate murmured to Albus, and Al raised his eyebrows. Maybe Nate and Albus could be friends—or friendly, or something. I wasn't sure. They were just such different people, if only by circumstance; Nate was serious and Albus a jokester, Nate was always getting into fights and Albus let things slide.

"Natey—" My mother began, starting forward, and I slipped between Nate and my mother, frowning at her. Mum pressed her lips together, hesitating at my expression. "We should go home." She said softly. I hesitated; I had to send Nate back home. It went against every instinct in my body. Sending Nate home was a bad idea. But I had to.

"You okay to go home?" I asked, turning back to him. I always had to make my voice intense but serious; Nate needed to be able to tell me if he wasn't okay.

"Yeah." Nate murmured.

"You will call me on the stupid mirror thing, or so help me god, I will apparate into your classes." I told him. Nate snorted, and I swallowed, but stepped forward, hugging him tightly. He hugged me back, just as tight. "Tell me if you need me." I whispered into his chest, before I pulled back. "And remember the spells on your doors."

"Yeah." Nate murmured. He hesitated, before he looked up at Albus. "Take care of her." He muttered.

"Nate, I'll punch you." I warned.

"I will." Al promised my brother quietly. Nate nodded.

"Remember," I murmured, putting a hand on his arm. "Call. Me."

"Yes, yes, yes." Nate agreed, but I knew he wouldn't. I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to look back at my mother. She was staring at me.

I stepped close enough to Mum that it made my blood boil. "You should leave Dad." I said thickly. "If not for the kids, for yourself. He'll hurt you."

Mum stared at me. "I couldn't support the kids on my own." Her voice was clear.

I closed my eyes, inhaling heavily. Mum was weak. Mum didn't want to raise three kids by herself, since Cory and I were out of the picture. I understood that. I didn't understand why she would rather stay with an asshole that hurt her, her kids, than leave him for a guy who might be willing to deal with her and her kids.

"Go to Mr. Causer, live with him." I proposed, the words coming out fast as I tried my one last attempt at making my family normal, giving Nate a chance to relax. My voice was desperate. "You guys could get married. Finn's a nice kid, Mr. Causer makes enough money that he could manage the Lerner tuition—the kids have partial scholarships, he's faculty so he'll get it less expensive—"

"I'd break your father's heart." She said shakily. I wanted to cry. I wanted to shake her, scream, get some sort of reasonable reaction out of her. But all she could do was stare at me balefully.

"What's wrong with you?" I asked finally, my voice breaking; I pressed my lips together, looking down for a moment as I inhaled through my nose, keeping control. I looked up after a moment. "You have kids. You lost me, Mum. Nate hates you. But—Cal and Ellie are so young. If you moved out—they might not even remember Dad being—Dad. And Cormac doesn't hate you, not yet." I pressed my icepack hard against my hand, and winced in pain. "Why don't you want to save them as badly as Nate and I do?" I pointed out softly. Mum looked away, and I pulled back. I was done with her. I looked back to Nate, and he looked to the Weasleys and the Potters; I looked away almost immediately. The looks on their faces embarrassed me. My family wasn't normal. There was a reason we didn't work.

"They're going home now." I murmured.

"I'll take them." Mr. Potter offered, and my mum and Nate approached him. Mr. Potter led them down the hallway; Mum tried to put her hand on Nate's back and he just shrugged uncomfortably, side-stepping her. Her hand dropped. I sighed, looking away.

After they went around the corner, I looked back to Albus. I didn't want to look at his family.

"Was Nate's black eye from your father?" Mrs. Potter's voice was fierce; I glanced towards her sharply. I was now looking at her expression and feeling anguish sear through me; all the adults looked the same. Sort of horrified. Angry. Sad. Pitying. I'd seen these expressions before—a hundred, thousand times before.

"No." I told her.

"Do you know that for a fact?" Mrs. Potter demanded, approaching me. "Because if it is—"

"You'll what?" I demanded, my voice hoarse, now. "Wizarding courts have no jurisdiction over my family now that Cory and I are no longer in question. You'll call the police, but so what? Nate will lie to them, Mum will lie to them, Dad will lie to them. For god's sakes, I'd lie to them—"

"Why?" Mrs. Potter demanded sadly. I stared at her, then turned my gaze to Mrs. Weasley behind her. She looked horribly guilty.

"Because I don't want my dad arrested." My voice was granite hard. I couldn't break, not now. "I don't want him sent to jail. I want to him _gone."_ I paused. "I know you don't get it. But my parents, even though they've been the enemy from day one—Nate and I don't want to hurt them back. I just want it to be over." My voice was a little hoarser, now. "I just want to know Cal and Ellie and Nate are safe."

"Why is your mother the enemy?" Mrs. Weasley asked, stepping forward uncertainly. "I thought—"

"My mum is weak." I said exhaustedly.

"That's cruel." Mrs. Weasley protested.

"You say that, and yet, every time my dad flips a shit—Mum just cries. She just stands there." I shook my head. "I have more maternal instinct than she does. Cal and Ellie are basically my kids."

"But your mother loves you." She said to me, as if I'd somehow missed that fact.

"That's not enough." I said seriously. "I've got two seven-year-olds, an eleven-year-old, and a fifteen-year-old I'm trying to keep sane. Love and no action is not enough." I shook my head. "Not when there are kids at stake."

"Love is everything." Mrs. Potter murmured. As I looked at her, I realized she was frowning at me like I'd been tragically misinformed, like it wasn't my fault I was this way—that was just a consequence of having been raised by my parents. But no. And I knew how to prove it.

"I love my dad." I told her, my blue eyes piercing her brown ones. "Is it really?"

No one answered.

* * *

**A/N**: Is this late? Yes. However, I did warn you, my lovely reviewers, because I had surgery on the sixth and I was/still am taking Percocet. Now that I'm on lower doses, my brain works enough that I'm expected to be keeping up with Organic Chemistry, so I thought a fanfiction chapter was within my manageable realm.

My surgery went well, which is good : ) My knee is in a big ace bandage and it has a big scary brace on it now, which is lame, but the ace bandage comes off next week (YAY) and the brace comes off in five weeks (postponed YAY).

Unfortunately, due to remaining levels of Percocet/hours of sleep I am operating off of, no responses to my amazing reviewers this chappie, but I swear, every single review is AMAZINGSAUCE in terms of how much better I feel. Seriously. I love you all.

MY REVIEWERS whom I love and were really helpful in surgery recovery land where I have dwelt for 10 days and two hours:

Jasminebrooke

Skittles31

Leshawnaseville15

Molivline

HGromanticsap

Tmbookworm

obsessiveHPotterfan

jmcmutt

angel2u

KaitlynEmmaRose

NotADreamYetNotANightmare

studygirl10

hushpuppy22

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Crazy-wee-cat

McGonagall is my idol

Pottercullen-4ever


	25. Love Don't Let Me Go

Love Don't Let Me Go

You've got me dancin' and cryin'  
Rollin' and flying  
Love don't let me go  
You've got me drownin' in a river  
Cold but in fever  
Love don't let me go  
-David Guetta

"Molly." I recognized Albus's voice, even in my sleep; I rolled over, squinting at him. He was in my room. It was nighttime and he was in my room. I blinked. My boyfriend was in my room at night. If Nate had been here or known this, he would have killed Albus with a sword and then tried his hand at killing me as well.

The bludger had hit me and my mother had come to the hospital only that day. My cheek had been healed, but I had a black eye that had more colors than most rainbows. Fred hadn't stopped apologizing yet, much to my irritation. His mum had taken the same route; she was extremely apologetic for bringing my mum to the hospital. She'd sat me down and apologized, the second I was home from St. Mungo's. I wasn't even sure what to do with her; she obviously felt bad. But she'd still done what she'd done. My point from the hospital—that at some point, it was only action that mattered—applied, here. She hadn't realized my mum was who she was, but then again, I'd still ended up fending her off while I had a broken hand and cheek bone. At what point did her guilt appease my anger?

She was at least better than Mrs. Potter, who had fallen silent. It wasn't like she didn't talk to me, but I got the sense that she wasn't quite sure what to say. I actually understood that more than Mrs. Weasley's mistake. Mrs. Potter thought love could trump all—something that made sense, considering that she was part of a giant family that was surprisingly normal. She didn't understand what it was like having my parents, being the oldest and watching your little brother turn into yourself and hating every minute of it. I thought maybe Mr. Potter understood a little bit; he'd been really nice since having seen my mother. Normally I would have thought of that like pity, but he wasn't pitying me; he was just being nice.

Albus stubbed his toe on my beside table; his subsequent low curses jerked me out of my half-sleep and my thoughts of the adults of his family. "What the _fuck_ are you doing?" I muttered, pushing myself up as I squinted at him.

"I couldn't sleep—"

"So you flooed over here?" I demanded; even to my sleep-addled ears, this didn't make a bit of sense. "Where do your parents think you—" I fell silent, my eyes finally taking in the expression on Albus's face.

"I need to talk to you." His words were soft but serious; he meant them. I swallowed my protests, sitting up properly.

"Is everything okay?" I murmured, self-consciously tugging up my sheets.

"I don't know." Albus said honestly. I frowned a little; I was starting to get worried. Albus stared at me tiredly; there was a beat of silence. "You told Nate to tell you if he needed you to come home." Albus murmured to me, his voice careful. I stiffened a little. I'd been expecting this. I was sure that people had heard me offer this to Nate. And yet, now that I was having this conversation, I wanted to smother it.

"I might have to leave Hogwarts." The words left me in a whisper. They sounded terrible out loud—more terrible than they had in my head. Albus's face twisted as he pulled back; my hands shot out, grabbing one of his, and I held it tightly, pulling his hand to me. "I don't want to—"

"Then don't." Albus whispered.

"It's not that simple." The words left me like a refrain; I felt like those were the only words I ever used to describe my family. "It's—Nate's struggling. He's only fifteen. I'm asking him to do so much."

"You're doing so much, too." Albus protested lowly, his eyes serious. "You're only sixteen. This isn't what normal kids do—you're raising Cormac!" Albus's voice built louder, and I shot him a look.

"Lower your voice or the Weasleys will realize you're here." I whispered, and he nodded once, looking displeased. "Cory's eleven. Nate's raising the twins—Mum's doing nothing, Dad's obviously—Dad." I swallowed. "I don't want to, Al. But my family needs me and they have to come first. They need me more."

"What about you?" Albus demanded. "If you leave Hogwarts, you stop getting an education. You have to graduate from Hogwarts to get a job, one day. I know you, Molly. You don't want to be the witch with the wand she can barely use for the rest of your life."

"Of course I don't want that." I ground out. "I just—they need me."

"You have to take care of yourself." Albus retorted. I stared at Albus. His words brought that brief fantasy I only ever allowed myself to entertain for seconds at a time; one where I just stayed here. When I just called the police on my dad and let him go to jail and let the rest work itself out. And then I remembered that Mum couldn't take care of the kids, I didn't want Dad to go in jail, and I would still have to go home. There was no easy way out.

"I'm the one who fixes stuff." I said softly to Albus. "Nate keeps it from completely disintegrating. And I actually make progress. At some point, my family has to be made better. Not just stopped from getting worse." I swallowed. "I can't come first."

Albus pressed his lips together, looking away. "I want you to stay. It's selfish, and stupid, and I know that I do not have to deal with 99% of the problems you do so I have very little standing here, but—" He shook his head, falling silent. "I want you to stay because aside from the obvious—the danger that your dad poses—I really want you here. Or—there—you know. Wherever I am." Albus glanced at me, gaging my reaction and then leaned forward, his hand sliding to the back of my neck as his lips collided with mine, and I leaned forward, responding before he pulled back after a moment, his gaze serious on mine. "Don't go home." His voice was low and serious and I knew he was begging me. Albus had never begged me for anything before. He didn't do that; I picked up on what he needed from me, and vice versa. As bad as I was at expressing what I needed from people, Albus wasn't great at it either, so he didn't, often. But here he was. Asking me to stay.

"I can't promise that." I murmured.

Albus dropped his head, pulling away from me, and I bit my lip, wrapping my arms around myself. Silence stretched between us, and a cold void grew in my chest before Albus exhaled shakily.

"Alright." Albus murmured to the floor. "You're doing this, regardless of what I say." I hesitated, before I pushed myself forward, onto my knees, on top of the covers, and I grabbed his arm lightly, waiting for him to respond. He glanced up at me after a moment.

"I'm sorry." I murmured. "I want to stay."

"I know." Albus murmured, reaching over with his other hand, covering my hand on his arm with his. I leaned down, brushing a kiss against his shoulder, before resting my cheek there. He turned, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

We sat like that for a half an hour, in complete silence.

And I knew by how happy I was here, how I never wanted to move from this, that I loved him.

Shit.

* * *

The next morning I woke up late; being up for an hour in the middle of the night with your boyfriend will do that to you. I was curled up on top of my blankets, but the blanket that was usually folded at the end of my bed was over me; that was Albus. I also had on the Hollyhead Harpies Sweatshirt he'd been wearing, which I didn't strictly remember getting, but I'd been mostly asleep when he'd left.

I pushed myself out of my bed, pulling the sleeves of the sweatshirt comfortably over my thumbs as I stumbled across my floor to my door, opening the door carefully; right outside my door, Fred Weasley was sitting on the ground across from my room, beside his door. He looked up at me suspiciously.

"I don't want to know what you and Albus were doing, late at night, alone, in your room." Fred said flatly to me. "But I will tell you that if it happens again, I will not hesitate to hex you both into next week."

I narrowed my eyes.

"First, we may live in the same house, but that does not mean anything I do is any of your business." I said, my voice low and lethal. "Second, there are only four girls in our whole year that you haven't hooked up with so you do _not_ get to preach to me about relationships and how they work."

"Before you get all up on that high horse," Fred began irritatedly, pushing himself to his feet, "let me just interrupt for a moment. Albus is my cousin and since you're living with me and my best friend, you're pretty much as close to a sister as I get after Roxy. You're my business." He raised his eyebrows. "And to your second point, Miss Molly, I'm not preaching. I'm just wincing as you guys hang out in your room, alone, in the middle of the night because I think of you as my sister. So out of deference to me, could you perchance stop sexing each other—"

"There was no sexing last night." I said, rolling my eyes. "And let's find another way of putting that, shall we?"

"Mm-hmm, no sexing at all—" Fred said skeptically, "that's why he floo'd here in the _middle of the night _and hung out in your room for an hour—why you're now wearing his sweatshirt—"

I stared at Fred irritatedly. "Sweatshirts mean sex?" I asked. "Because I wore your gray sweatshirt two days ago and that would mean you and I—" Fred clapped his hands over his ears.

"Stop, no more words, no more words!" He cried, close his eyes.

"Agreed." I said irritatedly, rolling my eyes.

"So no sexing?" Fred checked.

"No sexing." I agreed.

"Good." Fred shuddered. "Ugh, you guys are _so gross_." He shook his head. "So what exactly _was_ your boyfriend doing in your room in the middle of the night?" I hesitated, ducking my head for a moment; that effectively set off Fred's alarm bells, because he shifted uncomfortably in front of me. "Everything okay?" He asked quietly. "Other than my bashing your face and breaking your hand, I mean—"

I stared at Fred, then shook my head, forcing a smile. "Nope." I said.

"Okay." Fred said carefully, obviously not entirely believing me but he now knew me well enough to give me a little leeway. He paused, running a hand over his hair. "Molly, I really am sorry I hurt you." He said after a second; I glanced sharply at him. Fred sounded serious. "You're my best friend. I would never, ever, ever hurt you." He paused, cracking a shaky smile. "And Albus would beat me if I did."

"You didn't do anything wrong." I said, shrugging. Fred shook his head, looking a little haunted.

"Bludgers move fast and are heavy little buggers." He said carefully. "Having one hit your head is more than nasty—it could kill you." He looked away. "I almost—"

"You did nothing." I said immediately. "Quidditch is dangerous. I should have been paying attention. I wasn't. Thus, bad Molly. Not Fred." I held his gaze. "Are you done?"

"You are the only person in the world who makes me feel like a whine too much." Fred complained, frowning at me as he stomped his foot; I chuckled. Fred was more mature than Al in a few ways, but he still looked like and reminded me of a toddler pretty frequently.

"That's what I do best." I grabbed Fred's arm, turning a little so I could haul him in front of me and gently shove him down the hall. "Come on. Let's go get breakfast."

* * *

"I didn't absolutely need new robes, Mrs. Weasley." I protested unhappily, three days later, my shopping bag swinging in my hand. Mrs. Weasley sighed, looking at me in that sort of _shut up, we're doing this_ kind of way that I'd come to recognize from the Weasley parents. They were not pleased to let me just exist with my secondhand books and my too-short robes. New school books had been bought for Cormac and myself, and new robes had been ordered per Cormac's measurements. Mrs. Weasley had, in an hour and a half, turned the Gale children into respectably-clothed, owners-of-new-things people, which was a respectable thing that my own parents, in their sixteen years of having children, had not yet achieved.

The thing was, in two days, Fred, Albus and I got back on the train and off to Hogwarts we went. So the Weasleys were hasty to claim me as their own and get me the things I needed—I thought it was sweet in a kind of backwards, why-the-hell-do-you-care kind of way.

"They've been bought. No more discussions." Mrs. Weasley said easily, waving her hand at me. I ducked my head silently, eying the snowy ground. A moment later, he reached out, her hand reaching out to grab my arm gently; my head snapped up. "Sweetheart, let's go back to the house." Mr. Weasley said shortly, slipping in front of me and turning to face me; I frowned.

"I thought we were meeting the others for lunch." I told her carefully, trying not to sound rude; what the hell was she doing? The lunch was the whole reason we were in Diagon Alley; it was Teddy Lupin and Victoire Weasley's engagement party. I was wearing a blue dress that had sewn-on birds on the left side of the skirt.

"I'll tell Harry we couldn't go—" Mrs. Weasley said easily, but I heard underlying tension in her voice.

"Why?" I demanded, frowning at her.

"_Molly Gale!_" My name reached my ears, and Mrs. Weasley winced, glancing back as I looked around her. The restaurant where Teddy and Victoire's engagement party was being held was not twenty feet from us, but there was a woman and a man standing in front of the restaurant. The woman had an odd smile on her face and I thought I recognized her but I couldn't quite place her; the man lifted a large camera to take a picture of me the moment my gaze landed on him.

"Molly!" She cried happily, coming over quickly, the man trailing in her wake. There was a notepad and a quill floating beside her as she came up, and it began scribbling as she stopped in front of me. "Honey, how lovely to see you!" Her smile seemed frozen in place.

"Go away." Mrs. Weasley said bluntly to the woman, and my eyebrows shot up as I glanced at her, smothering a smile. I had no idea who this woman was but I was pretty amused that Mrs. Weasley hated her so much that she didn't even bother hiding it.

"I just want to have a brief chat with the girl who has won the heart of the second Harry Potter—"

"I'm sorry, did you just call Albus the second Harry Potter?" I demanded, my eyes narrowing as I stepped forward. "He's just his kid. Not his clone."

"Oh, so you think he's more like the late James Potter—" She turned to the notebook. "Molly's eyes fill with tears as she considers her future father-in-law's pride in the son that reminds him so much of tales of his own father—" her voice was low, but I understood what she was saying.

"What?" I demanded, my hand darting out to snatch the notebook; it floated out of my arm range, the quill still scribbling. "No my eyes are _not filling with tears_—"

"I know, sweetheart, it's hard to admit it—" She said to me sympathetically. Her eyes honed in on my face after a moment. "Oh! You have a black eye!" She leaned forward. "Is that from your father?"

"_Alright_, who the hell are you?" I demanded, crossing my arms angrily.

"Rita Skeeter, of course." The woman said as Mrs. Weasley shook her head, opening her mouth to interrupt Rita Skeeter; the name made me straighten up. Rose had been writing to Rita Skeeter. This was the woman who had helped Rose. She continued on, though, apparently not noticing that I was not pleased to be seeing her; her gaze had been towards Mrs. Weasley as she began to speak more quickly, noticing that she didn't have too much time before she got killed. "I work for—"

"You're the one who wrote that horrible book on Rose's mum." I said, a small, sarcastic smile on my face. "And the one who Rose has been writing to." I let the sarcasm drop from my face, glaring at her outright. "Get out of my way."

"But—"

"Rita, I will file stalking charges against you if you don't get out of Molly's way." Mrs. Weasley said flatly.

"But you can't do that, can you, since Molly's still technically in Hermione Weasley's custody—"

"I'll do it then." I said irritatedly.

"Are you actually hassling my son's girlfriend?" Mr. Potter's voice came from behind Mrs. Skeeter; she turned around, and the man with the camera snapped another two pictures of me before he turned to Mr. Potter. "That seems a little extreme, even for you, Rita. They're just kids." He looked at me. "Molly, come on, Albus is waiting inside—"

"Albus and Molly are going to be the main subject of the February 1st issue of Witch Weekly." Rita Skeeter said in a simpering tone. "We'd love to hear the proud father's thoughts on the couple—"

"You won't be, though." Mr. Potter said irritatedly.

"That's fine." Rita Skeeter said. "A shame, but we've already got the exclusive interview with Molly Gale—" Excitement entered her voice, and I wanted to shake her.

"No you don't." I hissed, swiping for her notebook again; this time, it didn't move quite so quickly so I caught it, and she frowned at me. "Hah." I looked down at the notebook, frowning at the words _Molly glanced away as I mention her black eye, muttering something about her father. It is tragic to see the girl so_— "What _is _this_ shit_?" I demanded, looking up at her. "I'm keeping this."

"That's stealing." Rita Skeeter said haughtily.

"You're stalking my boyfriend and me and making up lies." I hissed at her; she looked off-put by how angry I was, even taking a step back. I felt a twinge of something like guilt. I was as scary as my Dad was, when he was angry. But I never posed any danger to anyone. "Oh, and you helped my best friend betray me. I think we're even." I passed her and her camera man, who had long-since stopped taking pictures to snicker while I yelled at Rita Skeeter.

"Sweetheart—" Mrs. Weasley called out as she followed me. I passed Mr. Potter, muttering a thanks as I walked towards the restaurant.

"This is ridiculous." I muttered as I looked down at Rita Skeeter's notebook. "My eyes were not _filling with tears_…!" I shook my head, pocketing the notebook.

"Honey, ignore her." Mrs. Weasley insisted as she followed me; we stopped in the doorway, Mr. Potter hot on her heels.

"Please do, Molly." Mr. Potter said sympathetically. "She's ridiculous." I frowned up at him, biting the inside of my cheek. "Besides that, no one really trusts the information from her articles—they're tabloids, meant for silly people to read. No one actually thinks they're true."

"Does this happen a lot?" I demanded, frowning up at them. "Because I was Rose's best friend, I'm not confused about the publicity this family gets." I shook my head. "But their obsession with me doesn't make sense." Mr. Potter opened his mouth to say something, and I cut him off. "And don't compare me to Sera Finnigan because she was getting attacked and her parents had disappeared. She was a legitimate news story." I shook my head. "I'm just some girl who Albus is dating." I stared at Mr. Potter. I wasn't going to accept any kind of shit from him. This was ridiculous.

It was Mrs. Weasley who responded, though, her gaze serious. "I think the reason that the press cares so much is because it's pretty obvious that you're not just _some girl _Al is dating." Mrs. Weasley murmured. I felt a blush crawl up my neck and onto my cheeks. "They care so much because Albus does." I took a deep breath, then nodded. "Are you alright, sweetheart? I know the first round with the press can be a little…"

"Fine." I said, shrugging. Mr. Potter looked at me seriously.

"Are you sure?" He asked. I nodded.

"I like Albus more than I hate those reporters." I said after a moment, looking up at my boyfriend's father. "Besides, I have her notebook." I held it up, grinning a little. "So I'm okay for a little while." Mrs. Weasley chuckled.

"Alright." She shook her head. "The more time I spend with you, the more I realize how you are very much my son's best friend…" She shook her head. "Alright, let's go in before Albus gets to wondering where you are." I smiled a little, turning and walking inside the restaurant. It was relatively small, so it was pretty clear where the Weasleys were; there were partitions around the back half of the restaurant, and I heard familiar voices coming from behind them.

I ducked inside, and Mr. Potter passed me going in. "Look who I found outside!" He said as I entered a half-step behind him; I spotted Albus a moment later. He was in a white v-neck t-shirt with darkish, loose-fitting jeans on.

"Get wrapped up in shopping?" Al asked me dryly; he knew I wasn't a big shopper.

"Oh, yeah." I said, rolling my eyes as I crossed to him. He slipped his arm around my waist the second I was close enough to him, holding me against him, and I relaxed a little. "Hi love." I murmured, looking up at him and using the hand I wasn't holding the notebook with to grin at him.

"Hey." His hand found mine, and the notebook; he took it from me gently, lifting it up. He inspected it for a moment. "What's this?" He asked, glancing at me. I sighed, stepping back a little and pushing my hair out of my face.

"Rita Skeeter's notebook." I said carefully.

"What?" James Potter asked, frowning; I glanced at him irritatedly.

"She's a little into Albus and I at the moment so she stopped me in the street and tried to interview me." I rolled my eyes. "She wrote down lies. I wasn't going to let her publish that _my eyes filled with tears_." I glanced back to Albus, but he was reading the notebook, frowning.

"She thinks your dad—"

"I know." I muttered irritatedly. Al glanced up at me sharply and his green eyes met my blue ones for a long moment. We were good at this whole silent-talking thing, now—we always had been. I didn't like to talk about emotions and he didn't either, albeit in a slightly healthier way than I did.

"Fun." Fred said dryly.

"Oh, you're in here as the guy Molly's apparently cheating on me with." Albus said, looking up at him, holding up the notebook with a weak grin.

"_What_?" Fred and I both demanded, and I glanced at him. "Molly's like my sister, not—she's like one of two girls our year I haven't hooked up with. Come on." Fred shuddered. "Gross."

"Thanks." I said dryly.

"I'm pretending I didn't hear that." Mrs. Weasley said irritatedly.

"Thank you Mummy." Fred said, beaming at his mother, who shook her head. "You are a goddess among women."

"I'm just glad to hear that you and Molly aren't having an illicit affair—" I made a gagging sound and Mrs. Weasley laughed. "Alrighty."

"Well that will be loads of fun when it hits the paper." Albus said sarcastically, and I glanced at him, uncertain about what his tone meant. It wasn't Albus's style to be sarcastic—at least, he was rarely sarcastic when I hadn't started it, and even then it was only to play along. Al was pretty optimistic, most of the time.

Evidently, I wasn't the only one who picked up on that, because Teddy stood up, putting his hands down on the table just hard enough to get our attention. I didn't move my gaze from Albus even as Teddy spoke. "Come on guys, let's sit down." Teddy said, a slight pleading tone to his voice.

"Yeah." Fred said after a second, frowning at Albus. Al didn't move; he was still frowning at the notebook, and I swallowed, moving forward to take the notebook from his hand. He let me take it, looking up at me, and I slipped my free hand into his, giving it a comforting squeeze; he relaxed, and I did too.

"Let's sit." I suggested softly. He smiled at me, pulling me towards the table; he pulled out the chair beside Fred.

"For you, my lady," He said, the momentary mood apparently past, and I grinned at him, sitting in it and scooting into the table. He turned briefly to say something to his Dad and I glanced at Fred, my eyebrows drawing together worriedly. Fred met my gaze, looking equally worried, before he ran his hand over his hair; I looked down at the reporter's notebook in my hand and then tucked my notebook in my purse.

I would throw it out as soon as I got home.

* * *

"Alright." Victoire said an hour later, leaning forward with a smile that was a little too sugary to be entirely honest. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, looking to Albus, who grinned at me; his hand found mine under the table and his thumb brushed over my knuckles. "Let's hear about you and Albus—how long have you been together, how'd you get together—" I shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Albus, who had his eyebrows raised mildly at Victoire.

"You're already interrogating her?" Albus demanded. "Seems a little early in our relationship for a full-scale Weasley-style interrogation." He looked down at me. "Vicky is a little…overly interested in other people's relationships. She asks a lot of questions. All the time." I kept my face carefully blank, looking to Victoire. She glared at us.

"Don't be mean to me at my own engagement party." She chided Albus, who didn't look remorseful at all; I laughed softly. "Tell me how long you've been together."

"We've been dating since the eighteenth." Al admitted, throwing his free arm around the back of my chair.

"Really?" Lily Potter asked, looking at us intriguedly. "I thought you guys were dating before that."

"No—" Albus said, wincing, and I laughed softly.

"Why did you think that?" Vicky asked, catching on to something that she wanted to hear about.

"Because," James Potter said, leaning forward with a wicked grin; I felt my own eyes widen. That was the first time I'd seen him grin, even if it was sort of evil. "My brother spent a good year and a half pining after Molly, so Lily just assumed—"

"What?" I asked, grinning as I turned to look at Albus. "_A year and a half_?"

"Not a year and a half—" Albus protested, a blush reddening his cheeks. "It wasn't that long, I swear—" He muttered, turning to me.

"_Yes_ it was." Fred snorted beside me, laughing. I glanced at him, grinning still; he was looking past me to my boyfriend, who was looking horribly embarrassed even as he grinned. "We were all at Rose's for her fourteenth birthday party and Molly was in a bikini and you saw her and you turned _so red_—" The weird thing was, as he said this, this sort of came back to me; I'd been sitting on the edge of the pool beside Mikey—who had also taken his sweet time asking me out—and there'd been a big flurry of activity because Fred and Al had arrived. I'd looked up and Fred had pushed Al into the pool, and when he resurfaced, he was only four or so feet from me, and I remembered thinking how frustrating—he was ruining my moment with Mikey, if you could call sitting beside each other and holding hands a moment. But he'd looked at me and then he'd turned scarlet and Mikey had asked him if he was okay, since he'd just been in the water, and we'd wanted to make sure he wasn't drowning or something.

"You were with what's-her-name at that party." James recalled, leaning forward, engaging, finally. "That girl who goes to Beauxbatons—" He said, looking to Louis for guidance.

"Adeline Soleil." Louis Weasley offered, grinning as he sat back in his chair. "Smart girl and wicked funny…though her face is—"

"Uggo." James agreed seriously.

"Tactful." Louis said, snorting in laughter. "Addy is my cousin's best friend."

"Still an uggo." James murmured.

"Classy move, bringing a girl to the party and then spending the rest of it staring at another girl." Fred said mockingly to Albus, a grin on his face; Albus glared at his cousin.

"I didn't spend the rest of the time _staring_ at Molly—" Albus protested.

"Yeah you did." Fred retorted, grinning.

"Wait, _what_?" I demanded, turning to him. "You never said anything!"

"Chicken." James snorted across the table.

"James, I will kill you." Albus muttered, flashing his brother a glare. He turned to me. "You were dating Mikey, and then I told Mikey to go away but then Rose mentioned that you were upset about that so I felt guilty and stayed away—" I rolled my eyes. "And then this year there was stupid Rory."

"You're so stupid—I was sitting with you for _eight hours _on the Hogwarts Express and you never said a thing!" I exclaimed. "Hell, we were living in adjacent rooms in the Leakey Cauldron—" Albus leaned forward, his hand slipping around to gently cup to the back of my neck as he kissed me suddenly, and my breath caught as I closed my eyes. Al pulled away after a moment, but not far; when he tilted his head forward, his forehead touched mine for a moment.

"I said something, we're together now, can we _please_ stop mocking me?" He asked me softly, but he was grinning, so I ducked forward, kissing him again before I pulled back, sitting back in my chair.

"Sorry love." I said, reaching out to trail my hand down his arm, grabbing his hand. "I mock because I care." Albus groaned, leaning his head back for a moment, before he bounced his head back up, bringing my hand to his lips. I smiled, blushing a little, then glanced towards the partitions as four more members of the Weasley clan came in.

"Thank you for waiting—Hugo accidently spelled his door shut and then Ron got confused when my parents phoned and yelled at them accidentally—" Mrs. Weasley said in a rushed voice as she crossed to Victoire and Teddy; she got a hug from each of them. Albus, beside me, my hand still in his, being held to his chest, had frozen as his gaze landed on the red-headed girl standing nervously in the corner.

"I thought Rose wasn't coming." Fred said harshly, his voice cutting against Mrs. Weasley's, and suddenly, the entire room fell silent. "Mum—"

"Victoire told me she wasn't invited." Fred's mum said quietly to her son.

"I made her come." Mrs. Weasley said carefully, turning to look at us. I turned to Albus, feeling weight settle on my chest. "I figured you might as well start getting over this—"

"I'm not getting over this, Mrs. Weasley." My voice was clear and the words left my mouth before I even realized I wanted to speak.

"I know." Mrs. Weasley softened a little as she looked at me. "I know that very much, sweetheart." I flinched at the name, looking down at the table; Mrs. Weasley had never been on my side. She'd always been on Rose's side, and when Rose was on my side, power to me, but she'd never actually been on my side. "But you will still be living in the same room after break ends. You guys have to have at least a little bit of familiarity—"

"Familiarity isn't the _problem_." Albus said quietly to his aunt, and when I glanced at him, I realized he was glaring. "The problem is Rose."

"Albus." Rose said, sounding hurt; I glanced at her despite my better judgment. "Al—c'mon." Her voice was soft. "We grew up together." She paused. "You don't have to take my side but at least you don't have to be all the way on Molly's—"

"This isn't just a you and Molly thing, though I admit you two are the main players." Fred said somberly to his cousin. "You put all three of us in the papers. Rita Skeeter stalks Molly and Al now." He fell silent for a moment, staring at Rose. "You screwed with our lives, and we'll be feeling the consequences for a really, really long time." He looked at his aunt. "It's not that we've stopped being familiar with Rose. It's that Rose took our familiarity and threw it out the window."

"Maybe Rose should leave." Victoire suggested quietly, her eyes on her aunt. Mrs. Weasley glanced at her, having fallen silent, before she nervously reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear, which was something I'd seen Rose do before when she was stressed.

"I didn't realize that Albus and Fred were also angry." Mrs. Weasley said by way of apology.

"Yeah, right." I murmured, looking away.

"Don't be rude, Molly." Rose's mum chided, and my head snapped up to stare at her disbelievingly.

"You have scolded me twelve million times since I fell into your custody and I have done nothing wrong—" I said, my voice heated and fast, "but your kid screwed up big time—epically, in a way that has changed my life _forever_—and I have never heard you berate her once."

"That isn't true—" Mrs. Weasley said irritatedly. "Of course we punished Rose—that would be irresponsible parenting if we didn't."

I had a half dozen retorts to that, all of them killing her parenting skills with a knife, but Hugo, Rose's little brother, was standing right there. And I liked Hugo. He reminded me of Nate, a little, and more than once he'd been useful on a Rose break-up disaster.

"Molly, can I talk to you out there for a moment?" Rose asked me softly. I glanced at her irritatedly. "I promise, it will take only two seconds." She murmured. I stared at her, not responding, and she rolled her eyes, looking down for a moment before she looked back to me. "I will leave after I talk to you." She said to me after a minute.

"You get thirty seconds." I stated irritatedly, pushing myself up in my chair as Al released my hand. "And then I am shoving you out the door."

"Done." She agreed, sounding irritated, but she turned and followed through the gap in the partitions. I move towards the bathrooms, which was deeper into the restaurant. I finally turned to her in the tiny hallway where there were the doors to the bathroom and then the door to the kitchen.

"What do you want?" I demanded.

"I handed in my prefect badge." Rose murmured. I stared at her.

"Your mum must have had a fit." I managed finally; what the hell was Rose doing?

"She suggested it." Rose said quietly.

"Why did you do it?" I demanded, frowning.

"I don't deserve it." She shrugged. "I fucked this up." She smiled shakily at me. "You're the good one, you always have been. I think I just got it because my mom asked Longbottom to give it to me." Rose's voice shook a little and she looked down. "I'm so sorry, Molly." She murmured to the ground. "I fucked up—I just—" She shook her head, glancing up at me furtively. "I tried to flirt with Rory but he just wanted to talk about you. And I kept trying to get him but then you guys started dating and I _swear I stopped_ then—" She shook her head.

"You're lying, since you told him I was flirting with Albus." I said shortly, glaring at her. Rose blushed. "Thought I didn't know that, huh?" I smiled sarcastically at her, and I saw her flinch a little. "Liam told me." I snorted, shaking my head. "Another casualty of the Rose Weasley train wreck." I stared at her. "You destroyed Fred, Albus, Rory and me in one fell blow." I murmured. "Do you even realize that?" Her eyes filled with tears.

"I'm so sorry." She whispered. "I just got caught up—I swear it wasn't a long term plan, I just—lost it. I've never been rejected before and then it was for _you_, of all people—"

"Me of all people." I echoed, feeling my lungs burning as I struggled not to raise my voice. "Rose, I have nothing outside of Hogwarts. My family is falling apart, I'm probably going to have drop out just to make sure my dad doesn't hurt Nate." I stared at her. "You couldn't let me keep my boyfriend because he turned you down." I saw a tears streak down her cheek. "You're so selfish."

"I'm _sorry_." She said desperately.

"I don't care." I told her honestly, my eyes burning, but I didn't feel any tears threaten to spill over, so I just swallowed hard. "Thirty seconds are up." I turned away, starting back towards the partitioned-off section of the restaurant.

Rose waited until I'd taken three steps before her words cut through the air. "Do you know how hard it is being your best friend?" She demanded hoarsely; I stopped, my arms crossed against my chest as I stared forward. "You're my mum's ideal of the perfect child, Molly. And then you _were_ her child. This year has been stressful for me too." I could imagine Rose's tears thickening, because her voice was getting thicker. "You can handle family shit and you can handle a screwy best friend and the boys still like you but even when they don't say anything you don't turn into slut." Her voice broke. "I'm not strong like you. I couldn't do it anymore."

I spun to glare at her. "You're not a weak person." I hissed at her. "You're just a coward. My mum—she is weak. She doesn't _want_ to leave my dad." I pushed my hair out of my face. "You saw the right thing to do and you _didn't_." I felt a lump in my throat and I swallowed hard. "You think I've never liked a boy you went out with? Of course I have. But rather than create a fucking blackhole around it, I let it go. Boys came and went and you were my best friend." I exhaled shortly. "Stop with all your fucking excuses." Rose said nothing, just nodded, a tear streaking down her face, and I turned away. "Leave, now." I ordered as I walked back towards the partitioned off part of the restaurant. I forced myself to keep walking inside, not stopping once, and walking around the silent table to sink down between Al and Fred. I glanced at Al.

"You alright?" He asked.

"She said it was hard being my best friend." I said carefully, my eyes prickling. I bit the inside of my cheek for a second, trying to distract myself from tears, before I continued. "She said she couldn't do it anymore."

"As replacement best friend," Fred said quietly. "I happen to know that's not true." I glanced at him, then down at the table.

Rose Weasley would be the death of me

* * *

Two days later, I found myself sitting on my trunk on Platform 9 ¾, my legs crossed as Fred slept soundly on my shoulder. Fred was not a morning person, so the fact that at 8:43 we were already here (the Potters were not, yet) was a triumph. Roxy, Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Weasley were talking to Liam's parents a few feet away, and Liam was on the train already, having promised to save me a spot in the prefect car.

We would have joined him on the train, but I was facing the dilemma of all dilemmas in that I was now armed with a prefect badge. I didn't want to sit in the Prefect Car, though. Liam. Rory. And having to explain that Rose was no longer the prefect. Going back to school meant twelve million questions from people who had no business asking what was wrong. But they would anyway. I'd already seen several fourth years with their copies of Witch Weekly, hiding them as they passed me.

"Fred." I said after a fourth year passed, giggling at me; I glared at her and she fell silent. "You've got to wake up. I need you to look ominous to the fourth year girls who are talking about Al and me so they'll stop." I moved the shoulder he was sleeping on, and he sat up groggily, shooting me an irritated expression.

"I told you not to wake me up." He grumbled.

"Look ominous." I urged.

"You woke me up." He said. "Why would I do you a favor?"

"Because I will spread vicious rumors about STDs you have around this school if you don't." I replied, straight-faced. Fred frowned at me, then rubbed at his eyes.

"Who am I looking ominous for?" He asked.

"Fourth years." I told him, shrugging. Fred smirked.

"I've snogged at least eight of them so I'm not gonna be much help—" His smirk grew, and I reached out, smacking his arm with an irritated expression.

"What is wrong with you?" I demanded, my eyebrows shooting up. "How do you find the time to snog that many girls? You're with me and Albus 90% of the time and then the rest of the time you're at practice—"

"Admittedly," Fred said, struggling with this sweatshirt, "It takes some doing." I shook my head, about to respond with some disgusted comment, when I heard a familiar voice. I glanced up in time to see Cormac grinning at me and I stood up quickly; he half-ran the last few steps to me and flew at me. I caught him happily as he wrapped his arms around me. Cormac had grown and now was up to my shoulder; his hair was messy and long but still alright. He was alright.

"Hey kid." I said pleasedly, raking my fingers through his hair, grinning. He pulled back after a second, his face split wide by a grin. Cormac's happiness was still so innocent—Nate was angry, even when he was happy. Nate was always ready to help me fix the next disaster. Cormac's happiness was pure; there wasn't a single thing tainting it. I had to keep Mum and Dad from him.

There were only moments of this—where I remembered what I was doing, dragging myself and Nate and the kids through this middle ground of hell. What I was fighting for. Everytime Ellie and Cal were so happy to see me, every time Cormac was truly excited. I had to fix my family, for them.

I glanced up, grinning myself, and I saw Mrs. Weasley watching us fondly. I looked back down at Cormac, who was just pulling back from me, already excitedly starting in on me.

"I haven't seen you in forever!" He exclaimed. "When we talked on Christmas eve you didn't talk about the papers—why are they all talking about you? Mrs. Kader wouldn't let me see them once she realized you were in them, she said the tabloids had no idea what they were talking out—" A surge of gratefulness hit me as I glanced up, looking for the Kaders; they were chatting with their twins, and Mr. Kader met my gaze, waving to me with a small smile. I waved to her; if I didn't get a chance before we got on the train, I had to write her, thanking her for having Cormac. "You should have told me!" He didn't sound particularly hurt, despite the words. "You also should have told me you went to see Nate! He wrote me!" Cory continued relentlessly. "He told me we could go see him in March—that's only in two months!" I forced a grin on my face, my head racing.

"Nate wrote you?" I asked, pushing Cory's hair back from his face distractedly. "When?"

"Last weekend—he told me not to write him back though—" Cormac shrugged. "He said you'd explain why at school." I bit down on the inside of my cheek.

"Yeah…" I paused, glancing up at the Weasleys again, then to Fred; Fred caught my glance and pushed himself to his feet, walking towards his parents. "Cory, we've got to talk about home." I told my baby brother softly. Cormac's grin fell and I nearly flinched.

"We're not going home for spring break either." He guessed after a second. I exhaled shortly, briefly blowing some flyaways out of my face. Cormac deserved explanations. Hell, Cormac deserved normal parents and siblings and a real home. And I couldn't even tell him the whole truth about all of this—just the very abbreviated version.

"Remember how I told you Dad was pretty bad when I went to talk to him about things, the weekend before school ended?" I asked. Cory nodded, frowning apprehensively at me. "When I was there, I pitched the idea of not letting you go home for winter break—because you wanted to spend break with Roger and Neela, and because Dad's off his rocker." I held Cormac's gaze seriously. "Dad wasn't very pleased. He sort of swiped at me, I fell down some steps. The front steps." Cormac's face turned white. "And it turns out he banged up Nate a little bit back in November." I swallowed, stopping myself.

"Dad hurt you." Cormac sounded hoarse, and I sighed shortly. I was anticipating this. Cory was eleven. Nate and I were his big kids. And now he was finding out that not only were we not infallible, we were _really _not infallible. Dad could hurt us. If Dad could hurt us, Dad could hurt him. And Cormac had stumbled upon the problem in our family; even the back up plan was terrible.

"Everyone's fine now." I murmured to him, allowing comfort to seep into my voice; Cory didn't look comforted. "Hey, kid, we're fine—"

"But—what happened—how badly were you hurt—"

"Cormac." I cut him off, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. "I am fine. Nate is fine. Do you think I would let anything really bad happen to Nate?" I asked him seriously. Cormac hesitated, then shook his head once, seemingly calming down a little. I exhaled; now came the hard part. The part where I lied to Cormac. "I'm fixing it." Liar. I wasn't fixing it. I'd told like four people I was fixing this—the reality was, there was nothing to fix. You fixed broken vases. I could fix the chair that my dad threw across my living room. My family was in so many dozens of pieces—each tinier and sharper than the one before—that I knew there wasn't going to be a fix. I knew that the only way to fix my family was to draw new lines—ones where Mum left Dad and moved in with Mr. Causer, because she had neither the money nor the will to live on her own with Nate, Cal and Ellie. But my mother was a good catholic girl, and she'd want to marry Mr. Causer before they moved in together—or at least get engaged. At which point the Causers—Finn and his father—would become almost as big a disaster as the Gales. I didn't want that. But I had no other end game and as much as I loved Finn and Mr. Causer, my family came first. Always.

"You promise?" Cormac asked softly.

"I promise." The words came fluidly, because they had to. I wasn't the kind of girl who minced words—when things needed doing, I'd do them. Even if they were hard, and even if I was making promises I knew I couldn't keep to the kid who trusted me with his whole heart. "We'll stay with Fred's family. They offered us each our own room—yours is right beside Fred's and across from Roxy's—" I forced a smile onto my face, and Cormac smiled shakily for me; I recognized it as fake from a mile away. "C'mon—I know you've met the Weasleys before but they're dying to meet you again and I think it might be good—" I shrugged. "We'll be living with them."

"For how long?" He asked suspiciously, as I put my hands on his shoulders and turned him around, lightly directing him towards the Weasleys; he leaned his head back to look at me, and I chuckled despite myself as I looked at him upside down.

"Working on it." I murmured, which was truthful, but unhelpful; Cormac's momentary glare made it clear he wasn't pleased with that. I ruffled his hair and his face relaxed as he looked back up at the Weasleys, as we approached.

"Cormac, hi." Mr. Weasley said warmly as he extended a hand towards my little brother; Cormac shook it firmly, straightening up as my hands fell from his shoulders. I felt a proud smile work its way onto my face; Cormac was getting older. More mature. In a healthy way though, rather than like Nate and me. "I'm George Weasley."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Weasley." Cormac said politely.

"And I'm Angelina Johnson Weasley." Mrs. Weasley said, beaming at my brother as she came forward, hugging him. Cormac reluctantly hugged her back, pulling back as soon as he could and throwing me a wildly uncomfortable look. I reached out instinctively, pulling him back against me.

"And you obviously know Fred, and this is Roxy." I abbreviated the last two introductions.

"Your room is across from mine." Roxy offered quietly. Cormac beamed.

"I have my own room?" He asked, glancing up at me. I nodded, grinning; it was nice seeing him so happy. "I haven't had my own room since I was six." I didn't let my grin flicker, and Cormac continued before anyone could think to ask any questions. "Wait," He said after a second, then turned around to face me, his eyes focusing on my robes.

"You're a prefect." He said, frowning, his eyes on my badge. I blew out my cheeks like I was holding my breath for a second before I let it out, nodding once. "You can become a prefect in the middle of the year?" He demanded. I rubbed my forehead.

"Not usually." Fred said, saving me from speaking; I glanced up at him gratefully. Cormac looked to him.

"How's Molly one, then?" He asked, then looked back to me. "And _why_ are you one? You're always getting into trouble—"

"I'm sorry, how many times have I dragged my butt down to Longbottom's office—or the _headmistress's_ office—to get you out of trouble?" I demanded. Cormac blushed.

"No, the fireworks were warranted—" He protested.

"You set off fireworks at school?" Mr. Weasley demanded, looking mildly impressed. Cormac spun to face him, and I saw the grin bloom even as he turned away from me.

"It was _sweet_—nothing like what Al and Fred did for Molly's birthday—" Cory looked up at Fred. "That was incredible." He said admiringly. "But it was pretty decent—it was imitating this bloke the year above me who keeps making fun of my friend Savannah—" Cormac blushed as he said her name and I snickered; he threw me an impatient look, "and even though I got caught Molly got me out of it because she pointed out that no one actually _saw_ me do it and then Mr. Goyle called her a name and she still talked back to him and it was _amazing_—"

"Gregory Goyle?" Mr. Weasley checked. I nodded. "We try not to let the children play with death eaters, Molly, so perhaps pissing one off wasn't quite the best plan—" He pointed out.

"I have a bit of a personal grudge against the family." I admitted.

"Celia Goyle is our year in Slytherin." Fred told his parents. "Not our best friend."

"Goyle and Malfoy in the same year at Hogwarts again?" Mrs. Weasley asked, her eyebrows shooting up. "That doesn't bode well."

"Celia's not terrible." I admitted. "Neither's Scorpius."

"Yes he is." Fred muttered lowly, rolling his eyes. I snorted in laughter, but didn't respond, otherwise; I didn't care enough about this to talk to him about it. He glanced at his parents, continuing in an explanatory tone. "We had a bit of a fight this year with Celia, but she's not—"Fred cut himself off, trading looks with me. _Not half so bad as Rose_. At least I respected Celia.

"She was supposed to be the Prophet source before we found out it was Rose." Fred murmured to his parents, his expression dark.

"I hate her." Roxy said, scowling.

"No you don't." Mrs. Weasley chided. "Hate's a strong word."

"It might be appropriate, Mum." Fred murmured, pulling his little sister to his side; Roxy pulled a face, but didn't move away from Fred.

"What did Rose do?" Cormac asked sharply, looking up at me. I exhaled.

"Remember the story that came out about me?" I asked. "The first one, I mean—" I clarified, when he opened his mouth, and since he immediately closed it, I'd guessed his question correctly. "Rose told the reporter stuff about us. About Dad and stuff." Cormac's expression disappeared, so he just looked withdrawn, and I bit the inside of my cheek.

"Why?" He asked. I looked darkly up at Fred, then back to Cormac; more and more, I felt like his mum, rather than his sister. I remembered what I'd said to Mum in the hospital; _Cal, Ellie and Cormac—they don't have to be like us_. Cormac wasn't Nate and me, and he might never be—he was more emotional than either of us, and happier. But he didn't miss Mum the way an eleven-year-old boy should. He missed Mum because he was used to her. Not because he needed her. I'd replaced her.

"She liked Rory." I told him, shortening the story. Cormac pulled a face.

"Gross." He muttered.

"Molly Sienna Gale." Liam said irritatedly, appearing at my side suddenly; I turned to him with narrowed eyes. "The other prefects are demanding your presence so we can work out the whole schedule thing since you're new—"

"Make it on a Quidditch night and I'll be there in a second." I said impatiently to him.

"Okay." Liam said agreeably, and I raised my eyebrows, glancing at Fred for a second, who looked down. I frowned, looking back to Liam.

"Okay?" I asked, turning to him. I'd been ready to blow him off just so I could say good bye to everyone but now Liam had piqued my interested. "You're Liam Fitzroy. Your name is almost synonymous with anger issues. And you just _agreed_ with me. To a change. With no prior warning—" I stared at him, then felt irritation rise in my stomach. "Was that a _pity_ agreement?" I demanded.

"Sorta." Liam admitted, shrugging. The boy had balls, I'd give him that; turning to angry me and saying 'sorta' like this was no big deal took something like courage, or maybe stupidity. "I feel really bad for you because Rose is an enormous bitch." He glanced at the Weasleys, "'scuse my language." He muttered, looking back to me. "But since I have been there and done that with Rose, I know better than to pity-agree to you." He frowned at me. I pushed my hair out of my face.

"I wanna wait for Al." I admitted after a second, my voice quiet. Liam rolled his eyes.

"You practically live with the boy." He retorted. "You can't wait ten seconds? Rory's—"

"Ah, shit." I muttered incoherently. "I forgot Rory was a prefect."

"You're a genius." Liam retorted sarcastically.

"Be nice." Cormac muttered; I looked down at him, my eyebrows shooting up, before I grinned, pulling him against me tightly in a hug. Cormac was defending me. That was cute, in a weird, backwards way.

"Kid, go get on the train." I told him. "I have to go do prefect-y things."

Cory nodded hastily, pulling away from me in his embarrassed, eleven-year-old way before he turned to the Weasleys. "Nice seeing you." He said, smiling a little uncertainly at Fred's parents. He bit his lip, looking up at me, then back to them. "Thank you for taking care of Molly—" I snorted in laughter, thinking how that was both cute and hilarious and a little annoying, until it clicked that Cormac wouldn't have thought to thank the Weasleys for taking care of me.

"Nate got to you, didn't he?" I demanded, looking down at Cormac, who blinked, then grinned sheepishly. "Oy. Nate does not need to take care of me, and neither do—" I stopped, my gears turning in my head as I processed the information. "Wait, did he say this in your last letter?"

"Yeah." Cormac said uncertainly.

"Nate told you to take care of me." I echoed hollowly, my heart sinking. Nate would only have told Cory that if he thought I wasn't seeing him for a while. A long while. I swallowed, running a hand over my hair, before I hugged Cory against me. "Can I see that letter?" I asked quietly. Cormac twisted to look up at me, frowning.

"Why?"

"Cormac." I murmured, my eyes sharp on him. Cory shifted uncomfortably.

"He said you would want to see it." He mumbled, looking down. I released him, smoothing his hair back from his face as I looked down at him seriously. "He said not to show you."

I felt my jaw tense. What did this letter say? "Cory, kid, at school, you're showing me this letter." I said firmly. "Nate trumps Mum and Dad, but I trump Nate." I kept my voice kind but my words were serious; Nate and I operated as equals for 99.99% of the time because it was less confusing to the kids. But I was queen. And I had to remind Cory of that.

Cormac's gaze searched my face for a moment, before he frowned a little. He nodded reluctantly. I smiled tightly at him. "Nate's—"

"Just fine." I told him, predicting his question and forcing a grin. "You know him. He gets protective when it's not really necessary."

"Yeah." Cormac agreed, seemingly believing me, but I saw in the way he crossed his arms that he wasn't quite sure what to make of what was going on. "I'm gonna go find Sav—I bought her a Christmas present I wanna give her—"

"You did what?" I asked, grinning properly now, and Cory blushed, turning and slipping into the crowd. I snorted in laughter, looking up to the Weasleys. "Savannah is his—a friend who's a girl who he likes." I elaborated, grinning. "I think he likes her."

"He bought her a Christmas present." Fred said, grinning. "He definitely does."

"We're just ignoring the fact that you just lied to your brother?" Liam demanded, and my smile dropped as I turned to him.

"If I go with you to the Prefect car, will you promise never to ask me anything about my family ever again?" I asked, my eyes cold on Liam. He sighed.

"I promise to never ask you anything about your family ever again." He echoed. I rolled my eyes, turning back to the Weasleys.

"I've got to go—thank you very much for having me." I said quietly. Mrs. Weasley beamed at me, stepping forward and hugging me. I forced myself to relax and hug her back lightly; I didn't hug adults, as a rule. Mum didn't hug me, ever, and even if she tired I wouldn't let her; Dad hated me. But here was a hug. I pulled back awkwardly after a second, stepping backwards uncertainly as I looked at Mr. Weasley. "Bye." I said carefully to him. "I had a lovely time—" I smiled at Roxy, who was between her parents. "Nice seeing you."

"Molly…" Liam whined, sounding like a little boy as he cut off whatever Roxy had been about to say.

"Oh my god." I murmured, rolling my eyes. "You're actually acting like an eight-year-old." I threw a look back to Fred. "You'll find Al, tell him I had to get on the prefect car?" I checked; Fred nodded, and I grinned at him tentatively. "I'll come see you guy once I get my rounds settled down."

"You're going to ditch us for your fancy prefect friends…" Fred said tragically. I rolled my eyes, turning back to Liam and grabbing his shoulder, hauling him around and pushing him lightly towards the prefect car, even as I flashed a glare at a fourth-year.

We were going back to school.

* * *

_Dear Cormac,_

_A couple of things that you deserve to know (that Molly, overprotective, misguided jerk of a sister she is, will not tell you [and since she's probably reading this, hi Molls]):  
__1) __I won't be able to write you for a while after this, but I'll talk to Molly on the mirror things and work out some kind of meeting thing since it has been a while since I saw you  
__2) __You need to be really nice to the Weasleys. And you need to be a little mean to Fred and Albus to remind them that Molly has siblings who will find them and hurt them if either one hurts her (Molly—shut the hell up, if you're reading this) since they're both best friends, so I'm not sure that either will beat up the other for hurting her.  
__3) __Tell Molly that I gave the Weasleys' number to Cal and Ellie and made them memorize it. Mr. Potter gave it to me when I left the hospital when she got hurt and now we all know it by heart. The Weasleys told me they would get you even if you were in class or something if we called that number. So…just for emergencies. But still good to have.  
__4) __We're on spring break in March, and I assume that you are too. I think things will have _changed_ by then, so I'll probably see you before that via that magical call we keep referencing, but I think we should all be together at some point then, if not by then.  
__5) __I miss you a lot. Be safe. If I have to turn up at another magical hospital because your boyfriend scares the living daylights out of me…I will beat your sorry ass._

_Love,  
__Nate_

_P.S. Don't write back. Molly will explain._


	26. Dance, Dance

Dedicated to hushpuppy22, who has been not only one of my most loyal reviewers, but actually messaged me to check on the status of this chapter. Thank you! : )

She also gave me some helpful criticism on Hermione, to whom I have been a bit cruel. I apologize to Hermione-supporters. I think I definitely could have written this better, but just to clarify; the reason Hermione seems as harsh/unforgiving as she does in several scenes here is because this story is from Molly's point of view. While Molly is a very reasonable girl, Hermione and she have clashed from the get-go; thus, when anything is said, Molly will hear the very worst interpretation of it. I promise not to leave this unrectified, but I think that at least excuses about 40% of the Hermione hating going on in this story. The other 60% is sloppy writing on my part, and for that, lovely reviewer people, I apologize.

This is enormously late for a variety of reasons, most of which people probably don't care to hear about, so I won't dwell on it here; my apologies, reviewer superheroes. Next chapter up is half-written so it will be soon. I promise.

* * *

Dance, Dance

Dance, Dance  
We're falling apart to half time  
Dance, Dance  
And these are the lives you'd love to lead  
Dance, this is the way they'd love  
If they knew how misery loved me  
You always fold just before you're found out  
-Fall Out Boy

"I 'ave a cold." Albus mumbled unhappily as he sank down beside me in the Gryffindor Common room. He rested his head on my shoulder, and I raised my eyebrows.

It'd been two weeks since we'd gotten back from break, and it'd been quiet, if a little tense. I hadn't heard from Nate, but I'd expected that; in fact, as Fred had pointed out, no news was good news. The only letter I expected to get from Nate was something along the lines of "you need to come home." And, selfishly, more than I even wanted to hear from Nate—and God, did I want to hear from Nate—I didn't want to have to go home.

"Did you go to Pomfrey?" I asked. "She could give you some pepper up potion or something…"

"'Ate 'ospital wi'g." Albus mumbled past his stuffy nose. I leaned my head to the side, letting my cheek rest against his black hair before I realized that he was in his red Quidditch robes.

"You went to practice? With a cold?" I demanded, pulling away sharply from him; he moaned a little as he lost his head rest, sitting up straighter. I twisted to glare at him. "Are you stupid?"

"Yes, he is." Fred chimed in pleasantly as he sank down across from us. "Wait, what are we talking about?" He asked after a second. "Because while I've always thought my cousin a bit _dim_," he shot Albus a pitying look, "You, Molly Gale, have never shared that opinion."

"He went to practice with his cold!" I told Fred. "This is your fault. You should have told him not to."

"To not play quidditch with a cold?" Fred checked. "No I should not have." He shook his head, and some snow felt out of his hair. "Professional Quidditch players have been known to play with _Dragon Pox_—"

"You understand that his playing will only get him sicker?" I asked Fred flatly, as if he was stupid. "He needs to rest. Get some cold medicine."

"We call dat pepper-up potion, 'ere in da Wizarding world, love." Albus said to me, reaching over to pat my knee condescendingly. I flashed him a glare and he removed his hand quickly, flashing me an apologetic grin. I narrowed my eyes at him. "Sorry, love." He said sheepishly.

"Go get some pepper-up potion then." I ordered. "You're going to get Fred and me sick and that will be much, much worse than you just being sick, I assure you." Albus's eyebrows shot up, before he looked at Fred.

"She makes a convincing argument." Albus murmured, looking mildly concerned. Fred raised his eyebrows.

"My good man, do elaborate." Fred invited, pulling out his wand and flicking it; it immediately transformed a pencil on the table into a large pipe, and he sank back on the couch, sticking his pipe in his mouth. He blew on it, and pink and yellow bubbles popped out the end, and I blinked. Fred.

Not to be out done, Albus pulled his own wand out, then looked to the vase of sad-looking flowers on the table. He pulled one out, and then tapped it with his wand; it immediately turned from the sad dying flower to a Lily, and he turned to me, holding it out. I took it from him, raising my eyebrows and ignoring the smile that was tugging at my lips. Then he tapped his robes and they turned into a neon orange(orange, of all colors) crop top and a pair of blue bike shorts, the tight-to-your-skin kind. I glanced down at my lap as I pressed my lips together. I would not laugh at the boys. I would not. That would only encourage them

"Well, fellow scholar," Albus said easily, as if he wasn't wearing something that was too absurd to look at, "My lovely lily of a love threatens multiple times in the day to murder us." Albus shrugged. "This could escalate, were she to be ill, as colds and the like generally lend to grumpiness."

Fred nodded, as if Albus had just said something very wise. He blew out more bubbles before he removed the pipe from his mouth. "If she was feverish," He noted, "she might, in her delirium, actually kill us."

"That would be most unfortunate." Albus pointed out mildly.

"Most unfortunate indeed." Fred agreed. He blew out more bubbles, then looked to me. "Miss Molly? Have you thoughts on the matter?"

"I do." Liam volunteered behind me, and I twisted to look back at him. "We are late." He told me.

"No, _you _were late." I said heatedly, pushing myself up so I was standing. "And now I have to make sure the idiot I'm dating gets to the Hospital Wing—"

"Are you joking?" Liam demanded, as I turned to look at him; I put my hands on my hips.

"Do I joke a lot?" I demanded skeptically. Liam frowned at me.

"I am not babysitting your boyfriend because he was stupid enough to go quidditch practice with a cold." Liam growled. I took a deep breath, my eyes narrowing despite my attempts to stay calm.

"How are you a prefect?" I demanded. "You're such a fucking _asshole_."

"You're—" Liam began, but I just shook my head.

"Shut up." I hissed at him. "Just shut up. I will literally beat your sorry ass if you don't."

"You couldn't beat me up." Liam snorted. I raised my eyebrows.

"I have three brothers and live in a sketchy part of town, back home." I told him. "So I would think _really _carefully before assuming I couldn't beat you up."

"Good Sir Fitzroy, as someone who has been punched by the lovely Mollilicious before," Fred began in a carefully formal voice, "I wouldn't do that."

Liam's gaze flicked from Fred to Albus to me, to Fred, to me, and then down to the fists that my hands had formed, somewhere along the way. Liam exhaled shortly, looking at me angrily. "I literally hate you more than Rose, some days." He told me shortly. I blinked, then snorted in laughter, shaking my head.

"You're lying." I told him, and my next words were softer. "Because you don't hate Rose. " I didn't continue, because to do so would be cruel; I'd called him on his lie. Liam didn't hate Rose. He loved Rose. And she would never recognize or care or treat him better for it. And he knew that. It was weird, because aside from his nobility in this one case, Liam was an asshole. But he loved Rose and he had said nothing since Rose had dumped him because he didn't have a chance and he was salvaging the sliver of pride he had left.

Liam glared at me for a long moment. "Die, Molly. Die."

"I literally understand _zero_ of what's going on here." Fred said slowly, looking from me to Liam and back to me.

"The bubbles are going to your brain." I told him, raising an eyebrow. "Now go upstairs and shower before you get into pneumonia too." I looked to Albus. "C'mon, let's get you some potion, genius."

"Pause." Liam said, holding up his hands as Albus stood up, and he turned back to Liam. "I'm not going anywhere with this one if he continues to wear—that." He said shortly. "End of story."

"You sure about that?" I demanded, my eyes narrowing.

"You would literally have to beat me up before I saw Scorpius Malfoy while standing next to that idiot dressed like that." Liam said shortly.

"Oh Scorpius." I said, with faux-sentimentality. Aside from Rose liking him, Albus hated him (more out of reflex than actual ill will) and Fred just sort of passively liked to hit bludgers at him. I glanced back to what was going on before me as Albus tapped the hem of his shorts with his wand, and his clothing turned back into his Quidditch robes. "_And_… we're back." I said, glancing to Liam. "Is he suitably clothed now, your highness?"

"Molly, please stop picking on me." Liam whined. I raised my eyebrows.

"Do you really think that will ever happen?" I asked. Liam sighed. I smirked.

I'd won.

* * *

"I cannot believe," Liam began dramatically, two days later as we stood in the trophy room of the school, "that we got detention for being _twenty minutes late_ for rounds." Liam paused, looking at me. "This is your fault." I turned to glare at Liam. Strictly speaking, it definitely was my fault. I was the one who'd insisted on escorting Albus to the Hospital Wing, and when Professor Gilbert, the head of Slytherin, had caught us not on rounds, he'd deducted points. I'd argued with him, and in what I stood by was a disproportionate response, we'd been given a night's detention. We had to clean all the trophies here by hand before we got to go back to our dormitory; a cursory glance around the room told me we'd be here until well after midnight.

"Shut up." I said shortly. "You agreed to bring Al to the Hospital Wing with me."

"You blackmailed me!" Liam protested. I snorted, grabbing my bucket of supplies and dragging it over to the cabinet to the immediate right of the door; I opened the glass doors, pulling out the only object on the shelves; a small, bronze cup that looked like it hadn't been shined since the beginning of time.

"Get started." I told Liam. "We'll be here until one AM anyway. We might as well not end later."

"I shouldn't even be here." He grumbled, but dragged his bucket of supplies forward to the cabinet beside me. I bent down, unlidding my polish and rubbing some on my cloth. "This is ridiculous."

"Could you be quiet?" I demanded, glaring at him. "You're here. Who cares how you got here?" Liam frowned at me. I continued to scowl. Finally Liam exhaled through his nose, reminding me starkly of a bull.

"They're probably making us do this because we're the only kids that _could_." Liam grumbled. I frowned, glancing sideways at him even as I began to polish the trophy in my hand; Liam was just beginning to trophy a larger trophy. He met my gaze evenly. "We're Muggleborns." He noted after a second. "Magic's great and all but it makes for some mighty lazy children." He shook his head.

"I keep forgetting you're muggleborn too." I murmured. Liam nodded, and we worked in silence for a few minutes. "Where d'you live?"

"Belfast." He said. "Mum is a police officer, there." He didn't continue, pointedly, so I didn't say anything; he took a deep breath, glancing back at me. "You?"

"You've got to be the only person left in the Wizarding World that doesn't already know where Molly Gale's estranged muggle family lives." I muttered, scrubbing harder at the trophy for a moment.

"Yeah, like Fred or Albus would let a tabloid about you enter our dormitory without killing someone." Liam said sarcastically, and I glanced up at Liam appreciatively. Liam had no tact and was deliberately difficult ninety-nine percent of the time, but at least he was honest. He wasn't saying he'd never read a tabloid about me—just never around my boyfriend.

"Mum and Dad live back in Nottingham." I said carefully, scrubbing in tight movements at the trophy. It was small but the bronze was really dirty—it'd been years since someone had cleaned this stuff. Silence spread between us for a second before I felt Liam's gaze on my face, but I didn't move; I didn't encourage staring, and I certainly wouldn't reward it.

"I've heard Fred and Al talk—is your dad really that bad?" Liam asked after a minute.

"Fred and Al talk about me?" I demanded sharply, glancing up at him. Liam smirked.

"Are you surprised?" He demanded.

"Shut up." I grumbled, looking back down at the trophy. It was almost clean. "And my family is none of your business." I paused. "Especially if your mum is a cop."

"Yeah, because I'm going to write home about your family problems." Liam muttered. "Self-centered, much."

Anger flared at the accusation; my head snapped up. "Oy." I hissed, glancing up at him. "That's what Al did." I said defensively, glancing at him. "You have a fucking talent for pissing me off, Fitzroy. Quit it." I shook my head, glancing back down at my trophy.

"Trouble in paradise?" Liam demanded, his tone a little mocking, and I gritted my teeth.

"No." I said shortly. "I get why he did it."

"You get—what?" Liam asked. I took a deep breath, wondering how much detention I would get if I just clocked Liam with the trophy. It was small, but it'd probably knock him out. Then he'd be quiet. God, that would be nice.

"I understand why Albus took what I said to his dad." I said shortly, my voice low as I glanced up at Liam.

"You literally have no capacity for forgiveness." Liam told me, his eyes wide. "Literally zero. And you're telling me that your boyfriend going to his dad—his dad the _cop_, no less—about your family issues so he could interfere—that doesn't _bother_ you?" He stared at me.

I felt a hot blush on my face as I realized what Liam was saying—I should have been angry. Albus didn't hesitate to tell his dad when things with my parents got bad, when I hadn't heard from Nate in a while or something. And from anyone else on earth—including Fred—it would have made me see red. With Albus, though, I sort of understood it. And I knew why, as embarrassing as it was.

"I would do the same thing." I said shortly to Liam. "If the situation was reversed. If Al's parents were—the way my parents are—and my dad was in a position to do something about it, I would tell my dad." Liam stared at me. I frowned. "Look, you don't have to understand but I would literally give anything for Albus. Even if I thought—even if I thought I'd lose him." I bit the inside of my lip, resisting the urge to bite my lip, lest I look like a sappy teenage girl. "And that's what Albus did. He would rather I be safe than make sure I wasn't mad about his trying to protect me. And that's frustrating as hell, sometimes, but I get it."

"Oh my God." Liam said after a second. "Shit." He ran a hand over the top of his head, making his hair stick up every which way. "You're in love with Albus." I bit the inside of my cheek to fight a blush crawling up my neck.

"What?" I demanded. "How in the name of Merlin did you—"

"You love Albus—" Liam taunted. "Molly and Albus sitting in a tree—"

"Are you fucking with me?" I demanded angrily. Liam didn't continue, just grinned at me, and I glared at him for a moment before I looked back down at my trophy; done. I put it back in the cabinet, closing the glass doors before I turned to Liam. "I'm not in love with Albus."

"Yes, you are." Liam retorted. "You do not have any capacity for forgiveness at _all_, Molly. Seriously. I've known you for five years; in those five years, I have pissed you off easily more times than anyone else in this school. And you do not forgive." He stared at me frankly. "You _forgave_ Albus. Not only that—you _empathized_ with Albus. You—"

"Stop." I hissed at him, stepping towards him; he dropped back a step. I smirked, falling back a step myself to back before my cabinet; I'd won. Casually, I bent down, reaching for the bottom cabinet door; it was made of rough wood that had, in age, warped; I had to tug hard on the door twice before it sprung open—and something shot out.

"Agh—" I stumbled into Liam, out of the thing's way; it was an animal of some sort but it was shifting on the ground, spinning and switching shapes even as Liam grabbed my arm and we stepped backwards, away from it. "What the hell is that?" I demanded lowly; Liam didn't respond. It was getting bigger and shape-shifting, a new form every moment until it stopped, after only three or four seconds.

And suddenly, the lifeless body of my boyfriend laid on the floor before me.

I froze, panic making my lungs tight as I stared down at this impossibility. Albus Severus Potter couldn't be dead, I told myself, because he hadn't been here just now. His body would only be here if he'd died here, which he can't have. He was alive. He'd been alive when I'd left him in the Common Room fifteen minutes ago. Albus Severus Potter wasn't dead.

But his body was there. That was his body. I knew him now—I knew every inch of Albus's face that I had stared at over and over again because he was too attractive to be mine, too nice, too smiley. His green eyes were closed, but his black hair, always so messy, was there. It was messy.

I felt a lump in my throat, my eyes watering. Albus. "Molly?" Liam's voice was far away and I felt my knees buckling. "Shit—what the—" Albus's body was still there, still staring at me like he would if he was dead—"_Riddikulus."_ Liam interrupted my thoughts and suddenly Albus's body flickered into rubber duck, the kind that small children take in the tub with them.

"What?" I asked hoarsely, ripping my watery gaze from where Al's body had been. Back in reality now, I realize Liam was all but holding me up; his arm around my waist, my legs shaking a little. "Albus—"

"Boggart, it was just a boggart." Liam said softly to me, his voice firm. I swallowed. It was just a boggart. I had to stop freaking out. Just a boggart. Albus wasn't dead. (Even that thought made my stomach clench.)

Liam continued even though I hadn't insisted. "It's meant to take the form of the thing you fear most." Liam was babbling a little, because even though I was sure Albus's dead body wasn't his worst fear, he and Al were roommates, for five years now. I shuddered a little, closing my eyes and ducking my head. My heart was going a mile a minute; my eyes still felt oddly teary. Fuck it. I had to pull it together. That hadn't been Albus. "Jesus, you're shaking, Molly." Liam mumbled, suddenly closer to me, and I realized, unsteadily, that I was, indeed, shaking. Adrenaline, I figured. "Let's go to the hospital wing. You could use—something. I don't know."

"I don't need the Hospital Wing." I mumbled. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine." Liam said quietly, not rising to the bait of an argument as he usually would. "C'mon. Pomfrey will give you something." Liam pointed his wand at the duck. "_Emprisum_." He mumbled, and a black box sprang up around the duck. "Okay, come on."

"I'm fine—" I said, swiping at my eyes after a second. "I'm just freaking out, it's fine—"

"No, it's not." Liam murmured, looking to me. "Boggarts suck." He pushed me towards the door to the room, abandoning our cleaning equipment and the trophies. I didn't care though; the image of Albus's body was burned into my eyelids, even when I tried to shut them against it. Fuck. _It hadn't been real_.

"Liam, I'm fine—" I muttered, pulling away from him even as we stepped away from the room. I wavered uncertainly for a moment as he stopped, looking back to me seriously. "I just—need a minute to—" I paused, another wave of tears hitting my eyes, and I paused, feeling my stomach rolling as my mind grabbed hold of that moment, the picture; Albus, my Albus, dead. Dead.

I half-stumbled, half-ran to the trash can at the end of the hallway, emptying my stomach as Liam cursed behind me. "You need Pomfrey." Liam insisted, and I straightened up.

"I need a minute, Liam, shut up." I hissed at him. Liam stared at me. "I don't need Pomfrey or anyone. I just need you to shut up and give me a second to convince myself that that—wasn't—" I paused, closing my eyes and pressing the palms of my hands into my eyes. Stars exploded in the darkness of my eyelids at the pressure; I was grateful for anything but Albus's body. "That wasn't Albus."

Liam said nothing, because he was as white as I was. I exhaled, leaning against the wall and sliding down, until I was sitting with my knees up to my chest on the ground. That hadn't been Albus. I had to stop freaking out. Boggarts just exploited your biggest fear. They didn't actually make it _happen_. I bit the inside of my cheek.

"Your biggest fear is Albus, dead?" Liam asked after a second, his voice soft. I closed my eyes, letting my head fall forward so my forehead touched my knees. I was having the same thought that Liam was. I had twelve different nightmare scenarios about my family, all of which made my blood run cold and my hands clench until my knuckles turned white. But I hadn't factored this in. I hadn't realized that Albus had nightmare scenarios associated with him. "You've got a crazy dad and like four siblings and your biggest fear is—" I had to stop Liam from finishing that thought.

"Shut up." I hissed, glancing up at him, ice flooding my mind and enabling me to think. It was funny; I always thought clearest when I was doing this, stopping someone from saying the words I didn't want to hear. "Shut up. And if you ever tell anyone—_anyone, _Liam, I don't care if it's your mailman back in Belfast—I will find you and kill you." My voice was low, and serious, because real threats didn't come in shouts or tears.

Liam stared at me for a moment before he frowned. "You've got anger issues." He grumbled after a second, looking down.

"If you think that's the case now, then just you wait until you tell someone." I said, a flicker of a bitter smile crossing my features; Liam nodded. I let go of the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding, rubbing my forehead.

"Alright." Liam crossed his arms. "You look like you're about to pass out. Go to the Hospital Wing."

"Stop talking." I told him. "Stop." Liam rolled his eyes, but stopped talking, and I exhaled shortly.

Albus wasn't dead. That hadn't been real. Just a stupid boggart. I couldn't keep being this frightened; things would get bad at home, soon. If I got this frightened back home, when Dad was yelling and Nate and Cal and Ellie needed me, then things would get terrible, quickly. I had to be stronger than this. And yet I knew that part of what was rendering me unable to respond, part of what left me there, sitting on the floor of the hallway for the next twenty minutes, wasn't just the terror of seeing Albus's body—though that was most of it. The remaining bit was a different kind of terror. I couldn't handle Albus's death—that much was clear. And he was sixteen, and not ill or particularly clumsy or anywhere near death. But still. I was no longer impenetrable. I had a weakness.

What had Albus done to me?

* * *

"You should work this summer at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes with Fred and me." Albus decided as he sat down beside me at the Three Broomsticks the next day; it was a Saturday, and we were in Hogsmeade, as always. I raised my eyebrows, looking to him from where I'd been talking to Fred. I felt my heart jump to my throat as I met his green eyes—I couldn't get the image of him dead out of my mind. I'd slept last night for all of two hours and those two hours had been me having a vivid nightmare where I was getting an award and then Albus was dead on the stage. And then Rose had woken me up, since I'd apparently started crying in my sleep, adding an extra layer of terrible to that.

"I do not share your passion for pranks." I reminded Albus after a beat too long for my reaction to be entirely normal; Al noticed, his grin fading a degree, but since I was always being grumpy, he just plowed on, probably assuming he could pull me out of whatever mood I apparently was in.

"Details, my dear lady—" Albus said, waving his hand at me. I snorted in laughter, relaxing a little.

"Alright, but what about the fact that I am a prefect?" I asked. "If I'm the one selling the products as well as confiscating them—that seems like a conflict of interest." I raised my eyebrows, and Albus sighed, sinking onto his stool like a dejected child. He looked across to Fred.

"I told you it'd only be trouble, dating a prefect." Fred told him. I shook my head, looking down at my butter beer.

"Love, don't get me wrong when I say this," Albus said, and I glanced up at him; he was grinning at me, but it wasn't the same ridiculous grin he wore so frequently so much as the one where his eyes weren't grinning. His green eyes were dark, and I felt an odd warmth pool between my lungs, "because this is not a personal judgment so much as a point made to me by almost every adult in my life—but you are a _terrible_ prefect, as a result of our dating."

I offered Albus a smile, and he pouted. "I was a little funny there." He said. "I at least deserve a pity laugh. Not simply a pity smile." I shrugged, looking down at my butter beer. There was a beat of silence, and I could imagine the boys trading looks, the way they did when they were worried about me. "Molls?" Albus asked after a beat. "Is everything alright?"

"Fine." I said absently, glancing up at him. Albus raised his eyebrows, but not in the mocking way he sometimes did. I held his gaze evenly. I wouldn't give without a fight.

"Please tell me." Albus murmured. I exhaled shortly. I wasn't one of those girls who thought Albus was convincing because I was in love with him or some nonsense—I just wanted to tell him. Honestly. Because then maybe I wouldn't have another nightmare like last night's. And last night's was terrible.

I bit the inside of my lip, looking back down at my butterbeer. "I saw a boggart yesterday at detention—it came out of nowhere—" I shook my head, not looking up at my boyfriend. "It became you. You were dead on the floor of the trophy room." I closed my eyes. "I barely slept last night—I had a nightmare when I did—" I shook my head, releasing my butter beer. "You were dead."

Silence descended on the table, until Albus scooted his stool closer to mine, the wood scraping against the floor. He bumped my leg with his, clumsily, but it was enough to make me look up at him. "I'm your biggest fear?" Albus asked after a second, and I recoiled from him when he reached out to touch my arm.

"I have a lunatic for a father and my siblings are in _constant_ danger and you—you were what came up." I muttered, looking at him, my eyes serious. "You were somehow the result." I shook my head. "For years—literal years, Al—my first priority has been Nate and Cal and Ellie and Cormac, because they need me more. They need _someone_ to put them first and I—I'm _not_ anymore—"

"Molly—"

"No, Albus." I said, shaking my head. "This isn't a _Molly_ thing. This is _terrible_." I ran my hand down my face. "You're not in danger, you're not sick—you're just normal and yet, somehow, you in danger was literally enough to shut me down yesterday. Liam almost dragged me to the Hospital Wing." I shook my head. "It's _ridiculous_. You are a—freaking virus or something, infecting everything."

"Oy, I am not a virus." Albus retorted, but he didn't look upset, or even irritated. He actually sort of looked pleased. He was sort of half-smiling in a way that made me want to kill hm.

"Are you _smiling_?" I demanded, my eyes narrowing. Across the table, an awkward-looking Fred chuckled, sliding off his seat and walking towards the bar. Albus glanced after him before looking back to me, full-out grinning. "Are you _fucking_ with me? I'm over here _freaking the shit out_, and you're _smiling_? You're a terrible—"

"No, Molly—" Albus's hand slid down my arm comfortingly, and I looked at him miserably. "Molls. Love. I'm not pleased you're freaking out. Just—" He was grasping for a moment, trying to get a footing on the words he wanted to get out. "I love you, Molly."

I couldn't help the searing delight that made my vision swim—Albus loved me. I wrapped my arms around myself. Albus loved me.

"You love me?" I echoed. "But—" I fell silent.

"I love you too." I said after a second, my head spinning a little with the weight of those words. "And—" Albus ducked forward, his lips brushing mine, and my eyes closed, sheer, pure happiness making my legs weightless as I slid off my stool, so I was standing in front of Al, one hand reaching up to the back of his head. I pulled back after a second, blinking away the feeling of contentment as I realized I hadn't made my point.

"You love me." Albus said smugly, grinning. "Yay."

"What did that have to do with anything?" I demanded, smiling despite myself.

"Your worst fear is my death." Albus reminded me; I felt my smile dim. "Since every time you get within a ten foot radius of your father, I have a panic attack, it's reasonable to assume that the same is true, vice versa." He grinned. I swallowed as I stared up at him. I wanted nothing to change. I wasn't to always be in this perfect moment where he loved me and I loved him and that was it. We were the whole world. But we weren't.

"But you don't have anyone else you need to be taking care of." I said after a beat. "That's the problem."

Al snorted. "I did not sense so much of a problem there." He told me, and I rolled my eyes; his arms encircled my waist, pulling me against him as he slid off his chair.

"I love you, and that steals attention from Nate and Cal and Ellie. Attention that they desperately, desperately need." I murmured, reaching up to cup his cheek with my hand. "I can't be distracted like this."

"I'm a distraction." Albus repeated my words to me, and I exhaled shortly, shaking my head immediately, a clawing panic in my chest; I didn't want to hurt Albus's feelings, and that was the problem.

"You're not a distraction, and you know that." I told him, raising my eyebrows in a dare to challenge; Al smiled at me, but his eyes were that rolling, dark green that made it clear he was very much aware of the serious tone of this conversation. "That's not what I'm saying. My point is…I can't just be this girl, Albus. The kids need me but I lose sight of that so easily—because you're here and you're _perfect_ and all I want to do around you is be happy, because that's all I ever am, when you're here." I stared at him. "You make me forget every single other responsibility I have. That was made clear, yesterday. And that's—bad." I closed my eyes, ducking my head against his chest, my forehead resting against the cloth there, and I felt Al rest his cheek on my hair. "That could put Nate and Cal and Ellie in danger."

"Love," Albus murmured into my hair, and for once, his tone was completely serious. "That won't happen. How could it? The moment you're with me, you're happy, everything's perfect, yes—but when you're with them, your entire brain is on them. It's like night and day."

"That's bad!" I said, perhaps too earnestly as I pulled back to shake my head; Albus raised his eyebrows. "It shouldn't be." I countered, pulling back to shake my head. "I should never have another thought in my head."

"Do you ever cut yourself a break?" Albus wondered softly, studying me tiredly. "I get exhausted watching you work this hard. You must be running on empty, Molly."

His words were alluring; I _was_ exhausted. I _was_ running on empty. But I couldn't think that—the more I acknowledged it, the worse it felt. "They need me more." I said desperately, after a moment. "I'm the last adult left on the merry go round. I can't just…stop."

"I'm not suggesting you stop forever." Albus said softly. "I'm not stupid. Ideally, you wouldn't have to care for the kids, but you do, and that's reality." I nodded, feeling simultaneous relief and panic. I was validated, finally, by someone who thought I was playing this right. On the other hand, getting this validation on this—that meant I had to keep doing this dance. I was still putting on this show even though no one was left in the audience, because that was all Nate and I knew how to do. "But what if you stopped giving them all of yourself if things aren't terrible right then and there?" Albus's words were seemingly innocent, but they were poison to me. "This doesn't help them. Killing yourself is no benefit to them."

"Stop." I groaned, ducking my head as I pulled away properly, disentangling myself from his arms. Al watched me carefully wrap my arms around myself. "I can't stop."

"Why?" Albus demanded. "Where's the harm in cutting yourself a break—"

"I'm not stupid, Albus." I said shortly, my head shooting up; I met his gaze heatedly. "What I'm doing here, this disaster situation—it will last, what, another month?" I demanded, my voice hoarse and desperate. "I can't let it go because the moment it changes, I have to have an answer. I have to know what I'm doing and what lie to tell and who to say it to because if I don't—everything falls apart! And the kids can't deal with that—"

Albus shook his head as he turned back to his butter beer. He took a swig of it, before he set it down on the table, hard. He turned back to me, his eyes darker still, with their swirling colors and frustration. "After yesterday, Molly, you know what it's like to lose me." His words cut at me, because they were said in the cutting way that most of mine were. "So understand me when I say that I am losing you _slowly, _so slowly, to the vast pit of panic that is your family and it is _killing_ me," his voice broke on _killing_, and the anguish on his face registered in my brain. Al turned away, slipping between people and walking away from me. He slipped out of the Three Broomsticks, stumbling onto the snowy Hogsmeade streets, and I turned away from the window.

I couldn't lose him. I couldn't lose him, and I couldn't lose the kids.

I felt like I was losing both.

* * *

_Is Albus Potter his father's intended heir? Will Molly be our Princess Potter?_

The headline emblazoned on the front of Witch Weekly in obnoxiously shimmering letters stared out from every issue of Witch Weekly in our school; the February first issue of Witch Weekly entirely about Albus and myself had come out. It'd been a week since Albus's and my "enthusiastic debate" (Fred's name for it, coined on our walk back to Hogwarts) in the Three Broomsticks, and we hadn't talked more about it. That wasn't so much avoidance or anger so much as the fact that there was simply not that much left to say. Albus knew that eventually, my family would pull me back in. And I now understood how much pain that caused him.

"Princess Potter?" I murmured as I stared down at my complimentary copy. I was beginning to think that Rita Skeeter was mocking me with these.

Albus flashed me a grin across the table, and I rolled my eyes. Still, though, the name 'Princess Potter' was enough to make me nervous. In order for me to have the surname Potter, we'd have to get married. It made me nervous that Albus and I had only said _I love you _to each other two days ago and the papers were already suggesting that I was going to be the next Mrs. Potter. The thought made my head spin, until I forced myself to stop going to the flighty fantasy of all teenage girls. Facts, were, I probably wasn't even finishing this year at Hogwarts. If I managed to scrape by enough OWLs to remain at Hogwarts for next year (assuming that I was able to do that…), I'd be pleased to grow into an old cat lady.

With that, I shook my head, looking back down at my copy, inspecting the glimmering words on the cover. _Is James Potter losing his Heir Apparent status to his little brother? Page 27_. I raised my eyebrows, looking up at Albus.

"You're stealing your brother's 'Heir Apparent' status." I told him.

"If only." James said irritatedly as he sank down beside Albus. He looked at me across the table. "Hello Princess Potter."

"Stop." I told him firmly. "And what do you mean, 'if only'?" I demanded, frowning at him. James shrugged, grabbing his brother's pumpkin juice; Albus looked up at him irritatedly.

"I mean that I would be pleased as punch if I got to grow up and be a Broomstick Spell Configurer and not have a tabloid care." James said shortly. I raised my eyebrows. James Potter was maybe the only person on the planet who hated people as much as I did. He seriously did just want everyone to piss off—and that wasn't as a consequence of some great secret, or disaster, like it was with me. He was just tired of people thinking his life was their business.

"You want to be a Broomstick Spell Configurer?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. James shrugged.

"I'm seventeen." He told me. "I'm an adult only in the eyes of the law. I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing." I snorted in laughter, looking to Albus, who glanced up at me before catching onto my unspoken question.

"Professional Seeker." Albus said shortly. I stared at him across the table, even as he turned to James. "Could you go steal Lily's Pumpkin Juice? We have a game today. I need my juice."

"Lily does the backwash thing—" James said, making a disgusted face as he shook his head a little; Albus grimaced in agreement. "And your juice tastes especially tasty because I take a certain joy in stealing your juice, in addition to the inherent joy of juice." James stated with a straight face. I raised my eyebrows, looking to Fred, who in turn looked to James.

"You're in a good mood today." He pointed out.

James nodded, taking a gulp of his brother's pumpkin juice again before he set it down on the table. "Had two good things happen in the last twenty four hours, which has happened maybe once before in my entire life, so I'm pretty pumped." James said, his voice flat as he looked to Fred. Albus looked sharply to his brother.

"Dare I ask?" Albus asked.

"Since I am in such a wonderful mood, I'm going to ignore the implication there," James said, nodding his head once like he thought this was a particularly good decision. "First, Sera's grandmother's final appeal to be released from Azkaban was shut down by the Wizengamot last night, so most of sixth and seventh year were up partying last night in the Room of Requirement." James allowed himself to smile, now, and I stared at him. Had I ever seen James Potter smile before?

"Is that really a partying thing?" I asked after a beat. "I mean, I know I missed that year and thus lack a lot of understanding surrounding the issue, but that seems more like a victory that one celebrates with a whiskey than a party—"

"Sera's grandmother murdered her mother." James said factually, and I raised my eyebrows.

"Alright then, party away." I said, saluting James.

"Will do." James said, saluting me back.

"I have literally never seen you this excited before." Albus said, now properly staring at James.

"Well you haven't heard the best." James told Albus. "And you are sworn to secrecy on this—I mean it, like ninjas, secret, not like fifth-year secrets which is still a secret if you tell and then swear the other person not to tell. This is classified information."

"Yes, yes, I promise." Albus said hurriedly. "I want to know what has happened to get you this way. Seriously. You weren't this happy when Sera agreed to go out—" Albus stopped talking. His eyes widened as his mouth fell open. "Merlin. I know what you did."

"How could you possibly have guessed that?" James demanded. "How could you—I didn't even tell _Louis_, and Louis practically lives inside my head—"

"Where do I live?" Louis demanded as he sat down next to me; I glanced at him, surprised, and he flashed me a familiar smile before looking back to James. "Because last time I checked, your head, while big enough that I have begun to fear that we will need to get a larger doorway to our dormitory, is not yet big enough to live in."

"I am in too good a mood to rise to that bait." James told Louis.

"Merlin's Magical Panties." Albus murmured. "You didn't." He shook his head.

"What didn't he do?" Louis demanded, looking from James to Albus.

"No, it's something I did that Albus can't believe I did." James said, nodding.

"What?" Louis demanded, looking back to James. James grinned, and Louis stared at him.

"Are you _grinning_?" He demanded.

"Maybe." James said. "Maybe not."

"Seamus is going to kill you." Albus said shortly to James. "You're going to die. I'm going to be the oldest Potter." He looked to me. "Will you still date me if I'm the oldest Potter?"

"Why is Seamus going to kill James?" Louis asked, looking to Albus. He looked back to James. "What'd you do? Do I need to beat you up? You know I would if you did something stupid to Sera."

"Yes, because I'm never protective or thoughtful to Sera." James retorted, frowning at Louis. Louis shrugged. James's grin returned, and the intrigue on Louis's face multiplied as he leaned forward, his eyes narrowing on James.

"Someone tell us what's happening." Fred said irritatedly from Albus's other side; he put his forearms on the table, pushing himself up.

"Last night," James began, and I stared at him, even as his grin seemed glued to his face. "I gave Serafina Finnigan a promise ring and she accepted." I heard my breath catch, as did Louis's; Albus folded his arms on the table before him and put his head there, and Fred just gaped at James.

"Are you kidding me?" Louis demanded after a minute of silence that pressed in on all sides. "You _proposed_?"

"Promise ring." James said carefully. "I neither have the money to buy a ring nor the inclination to get married before we turn at least, what, nineteen?" He shrugged. "Nineteen." Pause, pause, James's grin returned. "But yes."

"Forget Sera's Dad—Wes is going to kill you." I said after a second.

"You're getting married to my _best friend_ and you didn't think to tell me?" Louis demanded, his voice low and angry; I glanced at Louis. He was scowling darkly at James, who looked, for the first time in my knowing him, genuinely surprised. "Are you _fucking_ with me, James? How many times must we play this over before you get the message that I get at least a moment's warning before you make big moves with Sera?"

"It's our life." James said after a moment, and the word _our_ combined with the singular _life_ was a clear slap to Louis, though I'm not sure that was the way James meant it; the hurt had already registered on Louis's face.

"You're my fucking best friend, James." Louis hissed. "She's my fucking best friend. We've played out this plot every year since first year—you _never learn_—"

"Cool down." Albus ordered across the table, frowning now at Louis; I glanced at Albus, exhaling shortly. He'd obviously caught how completely blindsided James was by Louis's anger, if he felt like he had to come to his brother's defense. "I get why you're pissed off but this _is_ his life." Louis pushed himself up from the table, stepping over the bench and exiting the Great Hall. We watched him go, until James cleared his throat; I looked to him.

"What the hell?" Fred asked after a second, and I shook my head. That'd been weird. I glanced at James and Albus; they were trading dark looks, the first time in a while that I'd seen the Potter boys look conspiratorial, together.

"What's going on?" I asked, my eyes narrowing at James and Albus. James frowned at me.

"Go away." He told me bluntly. "You're not family." I felt the hurt on my face before I processed the feeling itself; when I did, it hit me fast and hard. I'd never been excluded by Albus and Fred for not being family. And, it occurred to me, the reason it hurt so much was because I did consider Fred my family; I lived with him on breaks, for God's sakes. "None of your business."

"Are you fucking with me, James?" Albus hissed at his brother, even as Fred drew breath to jump to my defense; I swore, sometimes the boys were really endearing, for all their antics. "I just defended your choice to propose to Sera to Louis—you either start being nicer to Molly or stop coming to me for help. I'm your brother, not your keeper. I don't have to side with you all the time. I do that out of loyalty, but you'll quickly lose that if you keep behaving this way."

Silence fell on us before James looked to me. "Apparently you're family too." He said, raising an eyebrow. _Too_—did that mean in addition to Sera becoming family?

"Congratulations on your engagement." I told him dryly, the only thing I could come up with to say. "Care to share why Louis freaked out?" James didn't say anything, only held my gaze levelly, and I glared at him after a moment, before I looked to Albus. Al shook his head at his brother, a disgusted look on his face, before he looked to me.

"Louis Weasley and my brother are both in love with Sera." Al said; his response was concise, even if it did blow my mind. Louis Weasley was in love with Sera Finnigan. Still. James and Sera had been practically together since first year, as I understood it, even if their official relationship started their fifth year.

"Still?" Fred demanded. "But—"

"Still." Albus said, shaking his head. "It's kind of an on-going terrible thing." He looked to Fred. "Thank you for not being in love with Molly." He said dryly.

"She's mean." Fred complained, pouting.

"More like you're a whore." I told Fred, snorting in laughter. I looked to James. "You should go apologize."

"You're kidding." James said after a moment, his voice flat, his eyes darkening. "This coming from the who holds grudges longer than—"

"You have no idea what I do." I said to him shortly. "You don't know me. You don't even really know how close I am to your brother. Don't pretend otherwise."

"I'm not apologizing to him." James snapped. "It's time he got over her—"

"Oh, okay then—" I said pleasantly, as if that explanation made sense; I quickly switched to back to my angry tone as I continued. "But maybe it's time that he stop being best friends with such an asshole that he can't even suck up his pride and apologize for not telling him about his promise ring for Sera." I stared at James. "You got the girl, James. It's time that you throw Louis the consolation prize of an apology."

James stared at me. "What the fuck are you doing in my life?" He demanded. "You were Rose's best friend—a nobody—and now you're ordering me around. What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"If you weren't so self-centered, dear cousin," Fred said mildly, "you'd know that Albus has been pathetically pining over Miss Molly since our third year." He pressed his lips together looking to James. "You're not doing too hot with relatives, today."

"Shut up." James muttered to Fred, glancing to Albus, then to me.

"Go apologize to Louis." I urged.

"I hate you." James told me flatly.

"Fuck off, James." Albus murmured, looking up at his big brother. "Get away from me. Don't come back until you apologize to Molly." James gaped at Albus, and tense silence stretched between the Potter boys before James shoved himself up. He sulked down the table, slipping out of the Great Hall in such a terrible mood that I could nearly see the storm cloud above his head.

"I'm sorry." Albus said to me after a moment; I glanced at him.

"Why?" I murmured. "Your brother and I don't get along. That doesn't mean anything. We're basically the same person. Hence, our difficulty."

"You're a lot less of an asshole than James." Albus corrected tiredly, grabbing the pitcher of Pumpkin Juice and refilling the cup James had emptied. He finished, putting the pitcher back down on the table after a moment, harder than necessary. "We're brothers, but seriously, he's a pain in the ass." Albus's words were low, but I heard the hurt behind them; I winced on his behalf, glancing to Fred. Fred nodded, and I raised my eyebrows, looking down at my empty plate. I was surprised at what had just happened, on several levels. Principally, Al had just defended me to his brother. And I knew Albus; he took his brother's opinions seriously, even if he did not always act that way. The fact that I'd come out on the winning side of that must have caught James off guard.

It certainly had me.

* * *

**A/N**: A superspecial end note (and ixamxeverywhere gets props for guessing at this): the next chapter is huge. Huge in the way that things in it have to do with the end of the story, huge. Huge like chapter 21 huge. HUGE. (PS, rereading that, it occurs to me that sounds like the next chapter is the last chapter; that is NOT the case). So get pumped.

: )

Love and hugs to my reviewers. xo.


	27. Let Go

A/N: Three drafts, 200 SAT words, and one night of sleeplessness over friend drama (After which I have come to the conclusion that GIRLS ARE STUPID. Teenage boys with their lack of drama and straightforwardness when approached with drama are better. ) have gone into this chapter. Be appreciative, children of the corn. BE APPRECIATIVE. Also, this song really works for the chapter and is just super good so go youtube it. It's good.

* * *

Let Go (feat. Emeli Sandé)

_If you can see me, then you're probably a little too close.  
So you think you could love me? Well you gotta be stronger than most.  
Cause my ex didn't like it, didn't like it,  
No, my friends don't like it, they don't like it,  
Somebody remind me…  
When's the right time, the right time to let go?  
-Tinie Tempah_

"I don't even know what to do with him." Fred murmured to me, four days later. We were sitting in the Great Hall, eating dinner in what was basically the empty room. Liam and I had had rounds tonight and Fred and Albus had had Quidditch practice that had lasted until far too late. Now it was nine o'clock and we were still eating. "He just doesn't talk anymore. It's not—I can't work with that."

I winced, looking down at my plate. In the four days since James had announced to us that he'd proposed to Sera (_promise ring_, he insisted, though we all were just referring to it as the proposal), James and Albus hadn't spoken. Neither had Louis and James, but that barely mattered to me, at this point; I like Louis well enough, but I didn't give a shit about James, especially after the way he'd acted. They had to work their stuff out themselves. I just cared about the James/Albus conflict but Albus was legitimately depressed and seemed to just be getting worse.

"How was he today at practice?" I asked, glancing up at Fred hesitantly; he grimaced, shaking his head. Albus was in a bad mood, and Albus would play worse, that way. Unfortunately, bad playing would then put Albus deeper into that bad mood. It was a vicious cycle. "That bad?" I muttered.

"He missed the snitch when it was within ten feet of him." Fred muttered. "Twice. At this point, you'd make a better seeker."

"He is a _good_ seeker—" I protested, straightening up.

"Yeah, he is." Fred agreed. "He's pissed as hell at James, though, and, while Albus is my best friend and I would face a Hungarian Horntail wandless for him, you have to admit, he lets his emotions screw with his game." Fred shook his head. "At this rate, Grace is going to pull him from the next game…"

"She wouldn't." I tried; Fred shook his head helplessly. "But Albus hasn't been pulled from a game since he was, what, twelve?" I demanded; Fred nodded grimly. I groaned. "What the fuck is wrong with James?"

"He's an asshole." Fred said shortly. "But he's playing a terrible game too—Grace had Sera pull him aside today to try to talk to him but apparently he won't budge." Fred viciously stabbed a piece of broccoli with his fork. "He missed a bludger and knocked Nelly Vane clear off her broom." Fred shook his head. "Thought Nelly was going to smack him."

"Why don't they just—stop?" I demanded. "They're arguing over nothing—" Fred frowned at me, and I shot him a withering look. "Yes, I realize James was rude to me and Albus always takes super well to that, but I don't need defending. If they can fuck with each other's minds this badly—it can't be worth it."

"James said he hated you." Fred corrected. "Had he just leered or said something obnoxious, Albus would have kicked him under the table or glared and been done with it." He held up the fork with the broccoli on it, waving it around for emphasis. "Alas, the elder Potter did so much worse, and thus, the internal collapse of the Gryffindor Quidditch team." He looked at me frankly. "You are a teamwrecker, Miss Molly."

"I'm not doing this." I said heatedly. "I don't care whether James hates me. He's not important. Albus is important, and you're important, and the kids are important, and every once and a while, between his moments of total dickheadedness, I think Liam says something right." I shook my head. "Absolutely under no circumstances is James Potter important." I ran my hand down my face, miserably, realizing the flaw in my little speech the moment I was done. "But to Albus, he is." I muttered, my voice dropping as I refuted my own point.

"Bingo." Fred agreed, finally eating the broccoli. I took a sip of my pumpkin juice, keeping my expression blank, but Fred's gaze was sharp on me. "Look, Molls, they'll figure it out." He began, putting down his fork. "They always do."

"I'm going to go talk to Albus." I said, pushing myself up. I stepped backwards over the bench before Fred looked up, evidently only just catching what I'd said.

"He's still—still—" Fred paused, yawning. I glared at him as I shifted from foot to foot behind the bench.

"You really should sleep more." I told him. "You're going to pass out during practice one day." I shook my head.

"But if I slept more." Fred pointed out, flashing me his customary grin, the one he always used when he was about to say something that I would roll my eyes at, "I would deprive the world of my beautiful self." He put his hand over his heart. "And I just can't bring myself to bring that terrible plight upon the human race. It would just be too cruel."

I snorted in laughter, pushing my hair back from my face; I'd braided it that afternoon, but now it was falling out all over the place. "You're ridiculous." I told him. "What were you saying about Albus?"

"Oh—" Fred said, nodding. "Yeah, he's still down at the pitch."

I blinked, staring at Fred for a moment. "Albus is still down at the Quidditch pitch?" I repeated dangerously, my eyes narrowing. Fred, ever the brave Gryffindor, winced and slid down the table a bit, bringing his plate full of food with him.

"I hate when you use that voice." He mumbled. "Please don't hurt me."

"You _left_ him down there?" I demanded, glancing up to the ceiling of Great Hall; it was spelled to show the sky above. The sky above was dark and foggy, because this was Scotland and February. Terrible flying weather. "Are you kidding me, Fred?"

"I kid you not, my lady." Fred said. He tipped an imaginary hat at me, bowing his head. "It's rather rude to kid with a lady." Fred shook his head. "What kind of man do you think I am?"

I exhaled shortly, then turned from Fred. I started towards the front of the Great Hall, pulling the sleeves of my robes, which I'd pushed up at some point, down again. If I was going to go out and fetch Albus, I would be warm. _Bloody hell, _I thought as I slipped into the hallway, taking a left. The courtyard was only two halls down, and the air was quite cold as a result; even here in the hallway, I was chilled. _What_ _the_ _hell_ _was_ _Albus_ _thinking_? If I was already cold, he had be damn near hypothermic. This weather would kill him. He'd chase the snitch into the Whomping Willow before he realized how far he was from the pitch.

I turned down the second hallway, passing a few giggling fourth years who fell suspiciously silent as they spotted me. I narrowed my eyes at them, and the brunette one bit her lip unhappily, looking to her friend. Her friend held my gaze for a few moments—brave girl—before she ducked her head, and I rolled my eyes pointedly as I passed them. Fourth years.

I grimaced at the snow in the courtyard, but crossed it irritatedly, then eased my way down the hill. The snow was up to the middle of my shin by mid-way down the hill and it was beginning to snow a little; Albus was going to freeze mid-air. Was this a joke? I knew Albus wasn't this stupid. He couldn't be.

I finally reached the Quidditch pitch just as the snow got heavier; it was beginning to cake in my hair, and I brushed off my head as I ducked into the archway-entrance. I looked onto the field doubtfully; it was so dark that I could barely see, but as I started towards the locker room, I realized the door was open, the light shining out in the crack. And I could hear voices inside.

"—_hell did you think you were doing?"_ That was Albus, I would have recognized his voice anywhere; the realization made me blush, even though no one would hear that thought.

"_Didn't fucking realize you'd stop talking to me._" The voice was hoarse and angry but still distinctive; James Potter was in there with Albus. I stopped, my hand half-way extended to the door.

"_You told Molly you hated her_." Albus growled; I retracted my hand, opening and closing my hand uncertainly. "_Thought I'd take well to that_?" I swallowed, looking up at the top of the archway; Albus still sounded so angry, and it'd been days. This was bad.

"_You always have girls around, Albus_." James's voice was harsh and unforgiving, and the words stung a little because they weren't false. I knew he meant before—before Al and I had become friends, then best friends, then dating. I wasn't naïve or jealous; Albus had had quite an illustrious past with girls. I just didn't like it being used as a weapon when Albus was no longer that guy.

"_Have you seen me in the last few months?" _Albus hissed, and I swallowed, hesitating before I stepped to the side of the door, turning my back to it and leaning against the wall beside the open door. I would stay here and let them settle it—or interrupt, if they ended up trying to kill each other. _"I've been acting like an idiot for months trying to get her to like me and we've been dating since Christmas Break and you're telling me you actually think she's just another girl who will stick around for ten minutes?" _Albus stopped, the way he did when he knew he'd said something that hit home, and I pressed my lips together. He was defending me to his brother. Albus was defending me to _James_. Jesus. How had we gotten here this fast? Why were we always going at ten times the speed of a normal relationship?

Why didn't it bother me as much as it should have?

"_You're telling me this is your girl?_" James's voice was low and skeptical. "_Seriously_?"

"_No, I'm telling you she's fucking Babbity Rabbity—_" Albus ground out sarcastically, his voice cutting, and I ducked my head at the small smirk on my features. Albus 1, James 0.

"_Cut your bullshit for a second._" James ordered.

"_Seriously, _you're_ telling me to cut _my _bullshit?" _Albus repeated, angrily. I leaned my head against the wall, staring upwards. Albus was too angry for this conversation—the grown up one that James wanted to have.

"_Is Molly…" _James stopped, and I held my breath, closing my eyes. James and I had the same problem, here. How was he supposed to end that question? Because even I—oblivious, reluctant, preoccupied—knew that I wasn't just a girlfriend, because Albus wasn't just a boyfriend. We weren't the epic love story that James and Sera were—I had heard enough about their relationship to know that James took one look at her on the train to Hogwarts and knew that Sera was something bigger than just a girl—but Albus and I were _something_. Something bigger than just dating, something bigger than school. Something that had begun to even eclipse my family. "_What is she to you?"_

"_I…" _Albus hesitated, his voice still hard, but not as loud. My stomach twisted at his silence. "_I want her to be around forever, James."_

My eyes snapped open.

Albus wanted me around forever.

Jesus.

"_You guys started dating at Christmastime." _James's voice was flat, not cruel. He just didn't understand. I didn't understand either. We had started dating on December 18th; now it was February 4th. That wasn't long enough to decide that Albus wanted me around "forever." Right? Forever was…the rest of our lives. The rest of my life, with Albus. I exhaled, feeling almost dizzy with the revelation that it wasn't that hard to imagine it. The rest of my life with Albus. I pulled the sleeves of my robes over my thumbs, reaching up to rub my forehead. Why wasn't this harder to imagine?

_Because I wanted it so badly_. The idea terrified me because I wasn't _this girl_. The girl who fell in forever-love with her high school girlfriend. I was too young to know what I wanted with the rest of my life—I was too young to know who I'd be in five years, or ten. I didn't know who Albus would be in five years, or ten.

"_It has nothing to do with how long we've been dating_." Albus's voice rang out, hard and steely and a little angry, still. "_The fucked up part is that I thought of everyone in our family—I thought you'd get it. I'm not screwing around with Molly."_ There was the sound of something banging, and I ducked my head; if I had to bet, Albus had thrown one of his wrist guards into a locker. He was pissed.

Of course, I'd known that.

"_You're—sixteen." _James's voice was low.

"_You're seventeen_." Albus threw back. "_You were eleven when you decided Sera was the love of your life—_"

"_Is that what this is?"_ James asked tiredly, and I winced. "_Because Sera and me are the—odd ones out or something. Not—most people don't—you and Lils shouldn't think you have to figure this out at Hogwarts—"_ Silence fell for a moment and then I heard a bad crunching noise. "_Fuck, fuck, fuck—you just broke my nose!_"

"_I did not_." Albus retorted.

"_YOU BROKE MY NOSE_." James shouted, now, because that would make it true.

"_It's not broken." _Albus insisted. There was silence for a moment, before he continued. "_You seriously think for even ten seconds that I'm stupid enough to think that I have to figure out what the hell I'm doing with my life because you decided to marry the first girl you laid eyes on?" _Albus hissed. "_I'm not some little kid following my big brother around. I make my own decisions."_

"_But you're sixteen!_" James groaned now, and I swallowed; James just sounded like a concerned big brother, now. I pressed my lips together; what if Nate had come to me, telling me that I had to suck it up and like his girlfriend or fuck off? I knew the answer: I'd freak the hell out. James was trying to convince Albus, at least; I'd probably lock Nate in his room until he figured out what a mental case he was being.

"_Are you really going to stand there and tell me that you haven't been thinking about this promise ring thing with Sera since at least year?" _Albus demanded harshly.

"_Why do you keep comparing her to Sera?" _James demanded. "_There are less intense relationships, Al. I love Sera but it's not perfect and I don't—know that I'd pick that for you—"_

"_You think that I am somehow less _intense_ with Molly than you are with Sera?" _Silence stretched between the boys, and I put my hands on the ground beside me, ready to push myself up. Albus was too angry for this. "_You know she wants to go home." _His voice was frank and quieter, more measured._ "To fix her family. To get rid of her dad, to get her mom to move in with her mom's boyfriend—" _Albus sucked in an angry breath, loudly. "_I've been hiding it around her, because the last thing she needs is another person falling apart, but the idea that she might get hurt—which she very well might—it cuts at me. It makes my throat hurt and my eyes burn and all I want to do is go to Nottingham and kill her dad. Because he will hurt her and I can't stop him." _Albus's voice was a little hoarse now. "_So please take your 'intensity' with Sera and fuck off. You're not the only couple on this planet."_

My jaw tightened, even as James immediately retorted: "_Stop telling me to fuck off!_" A shadow crossed in front of the slightly open door, and I realized the boys had been getting louder; they kept getting closer to the door as they both sort of wanted to leave. "_For once in my life, Al, I'm not trying to fight with you. I'm trying to figure out what you're doing here."_ James sounded almost desperate. "_You think I really want to fuck with you badly enough to make you stop talking to me? Hell no." _James paused, probably figuring out how to proceed. "_I just—forever is a fucking long time, and—look, you're going to change and Molly's going to change ten times before either of you hits twenty." _James's voice was softer now, softer than I'd ever heard it. "_Forever means forever. That means real life."_

I felt a dreadful terrified feeling well in my stomach as I heard James's argument. I'd thought all the same things, barely two minutes ago. And here Albus was, pausing before he responded.

"_Forever is scary." _Albus agreed finally, and the words didn't comfort me. "_Real life is scarier. There are no do-overs, there's no Hogwarts." _I could hear Albus exhale. "_Longbottom's asking us to decide which O.W.L.s we need to take, what we want to do with the rest of our lives. I want to be a professional Quidditch player, James—do you know the chances of that? They're pretty much slimmer than anything. I'm probably not going to be good enough for that. But I know that if Molly's there, I can deal. Even if I end up in a cubicle working under some asshole of a boss at the Ministry for the rest of my life. Molly would be enough."_

"_Bloody hell." _James said quietly.

"_Yeah."_ Albus muttered.

"_Shit_."

"_You could pretend to be a happy." _Albus suggested. "_I know that would be a change of pace for Pissy Potter, but it might just keep me from killing you._"

I exhaled, pushing myself to my feet. Going in now would just preserve the peace, rather than interrupt it. And I didn't want James and Albus to catch me just sitting out here, listening. I'd tell Albus later.

I swallowed, turning back to the door and taking a deep breath before I pushed it open. James and Albus stood across the locker room from one another, both of them looking serious. I offered Albus a small smile, and he relaxed, his shoulders sliding down. "Came down to look for you." I noted quietly, glancing at James. James had shifted his intense gaze from his brother to me, and I met it levelly. After a moment, I crossed to Albus, and his arm slipped around me an almost automatic gesture; when he pulled me against him protectively, I looked up at him searchingly. "Everything okay?" I murmured.

"Yeah." Albus said, glancing up from where he'd met my gaze to stare pointedly at his brother. "We were just talking over how the eldest Potter—whom, by the way," Albus looked back down to me, grinning properly for the first time in days, I felt the grin mirror on my face, "I have nicknamed _Pissy Potter_—could probably due to be a bit nicer to you."

"I'm sorry, Molly." James said, and I glanced back at him. I met his gaze seriously; James had been an asshole to me and screwed with Albus's mood all week. I wasn't just letting him off with a brief apology. "I shouldn't have said what I did. You're obviously…" He looked from me to Albus, and I looked back to Al; my boyfriend was glaring pointed at his brother. James exhaled audibly, and glanced back to me. "You're obviously sticking around." James finished.

"I intend to." I said, smiling a little. "And thanks." I looked up at Albus, realizing he was still in his Quidditch robes. His cheeks were pale except for burning red circles in the middle—he was cold.

"I'll head up ahead of you guys—" James said, a little awkwardly. I looked back at him, and he offered me an uncertain smile. "Did you see Louis up at the castle? You know where he is?"

"Not in the Great Hall." I said quietly. "I'd try to library or maybe even your dorm." James nodded, then ran a hand over his hair. He glanced back to Albus before he turned away, ducking out of the locker room. He closed the door properly behind him, and I looked up to Albus even as he loosened his arm around my waist. I pulled back as he reached up, undoing the top of his robes; I straddled the bench and sat down, watching him take off the Quidditch robes in favor of the more fitted padding underneath.

"I heard you and James talking before I came in." I told Albus softly as he threw the robes in the locker, and they pooled on the bottom. Al glanced at me, his green eyes scanning my face.

"How long were you listening?" Albus asked after a beat of silence.

"A while." I admitted, pushing the stray strands of my hair that hadn't been captured in my braid out of my face. Albus didn't react, just looking at me seriously. I couldn't help the small smile that tugged on my lips. Albus raised his eyebrows, a smile starting on his own lips. "I could do forever with you." I murmured. Albus exhaled shortly, before he grinned, coming forward and putting one knee on the bench to balance himself as his arms slipped around me, one hand resting on my lower back and the other on the back of my head; he leaned me back, his lips meeting mine in a blur of movement, and I grinned against the kiss, reaching up to run my fingers through his hair. Al pulled back after a moment, breathless, and he was grinning, hugely.

"I love you." He breathed. I cupped his cheek, grinning still.

"I love you too." I reminded him, running my thumb over his cheek. I paused. "But you should probably shower. Quidditch practice makes you smell _awesome_." I paused. "And if I stay down here much longer, Fred's going to think I fell into a snow bank."

Albus pulled back, still grinning as he let me sit up, before he stopped his half-kneel on the bench. Al was still grinning as he took off his shirt, and threw it in his locker. He grabbed a neatly folded towel from one of the upper shelves of his locker before he, with one last glance back at me, disappeared around the corner to take a shower. I exhaled shortly, biting my lip as I ducked my head, resisting my happiness. I was in way over my head with Albus.

And I was so happy to be here.

* * *

"Your practice OWL, my lady." Albus said, sliding my paper across the library table that he, Liam, Fred and I were seated at. I scribbled down Fred's final score before passing it to him, and he passed Liam's test back to Liam as Liam slid Al's back to him; we'd all switched practice tests to grade them. I looked down at the test and my eyebrows shot up. I'd gotten a high E, on my Charms exam. That was good.

"I'm just joining Dad at the shop." Fred decided, holding up his paper, and I glanced over at him; Fred had gotten an A, which was a passing grade, but just barely. "He didn't even finish Hogwarts. Who needs OWLs?"

"Everyone." Liam snorted. "You have to get at least a handful of Os—"

"You're just saying that because you did well." Fred muttered, flashing him a resentful look. "Tis rude to brag, good sir."

"How'd you do?" I asked interestedly, leaning on the table.

"O." Liam said, flashing me a rare grin as he held up his practice test; I shook my head, looking down at the paper in my hand. How was Liam that smart and yet such an ass? "You?" He asked me.

"E." I responded.

"She's only four points below an O." Albus threw in, and I glanced at him; he grinned impertinently.

"You're a brat." I told him, reaching out to touch the top of his paper. "How'd you do?"

"O." Albus grinned, and I blew out my cheeks, dropping my head to touch my forehead to the table. Albus frustrated me with his grades, because he never seemed to do any work, and yet got all Os. Fred never did work but his grades reflected that—Liam was constantly surprising me, so his being smart was unforeseen but acceptable. Albus just frustrated me. "Molly?" Al's hand ran over my head, and his fingers threaded in my hair. "Alright, love?" I heard the laughter in his voice.

"You don't do _work_." I grumbled into the tabletop.

"Tis a wee bit frustrating, my good man." Fred noted. "It baffles our dear instructors as well, since I am so often with the middlest Potter and yet do so differently in our classes—"

"Except for Defense Against the Dark Arts." Albus chorused with Fred.

"Your parents practically wrote our textbooks." I pointed out, pushing my hair out of my eyes as I lifted my head to look at the boys. "That's cheating." Albus grinned, nodding, as Fred raised an eyebrow.

"How is that more cheatish than being muggle-born in Muggle Studies?" Fred demanded.

"We have to suffer for that." Liam pointed out, and I nodded in agreement. "We get called names and such. Surely we get an automatic good grade for our suffering." Liam raised his eyebrows as if this was a reasonable trade; Albus and Fred had both caught on Liam's first point.

"You get called names?" Albus demanded quietly, glancing form Liam to me. I shrugged.

"It's not been that long since the war." I reminded the boys quietly. "You can defeat the bad people but they don't change their minds."

"But it's against the law." Fred said quietly. "Albus's dad and Rose's parents agreed to be part of the Wizengamot just get through laws like that—" I stared at Fred pointedly.

"Who enforces those laws on kids?" I demanded, raising my eyebrows in a challenge; it was easy to sit there and pass the laws, say 'this is the way things _should _be.' But this was the real world. And boy, did I know that. "A boy in the third year called my brother a Mudblood last month. It happens."

"Someone did that and you didn't flip a shit?" Fred demanded, leaning forward. I looked down at my practice test thoughtfully, smoothing out the front sheet before I responded.

"Names are just names." I said after a moment. "I don't think that's such a big deal. Especially not with kids—they don't understand the gravity of the word." I paused. "And anyone who really believes Muggle-born kids aren't as—magically inclined as purebloods, or whatever it is they believe—anyone who _actually believes_ that, they're just crazy. You don't fight crazy with reason. You fight crazy with fear." I grinned, glancing up at Fred. "And I think you'll find yourself a few fireworks short." Fred raised his eyebrows. "I gave them to Cory."

"I feel like you would be a really scary person to be up against in a real war." Liam said lowly, and I grinned wolfishly at him. I took a twisted kind of pleasure every time someone said something of that sort to me. I liked being that girl—the one who could take over the world or win the theoretical war or just kick ass.

"She's scary enough in normal life." Fred muttered, snorting. "I wouldn't put her in a war unless we were losing. And then she'd win and I'd cry, because she'd still be scary."

"She's not scary." Albus decided; I glanced to him sharply. "She doesn't kill people for fun. She just kills them when they fuck up." I tilted my head to one side, then nodded.

"I suppose you're correct." I murmured, looking down at my wrist; my watch sat there, blinking up at me happily. I raised my eyebrows at the time. "Speaking of fucking up—you're ten minutes late to practice already." I looked up to the boys. "Grace is going to kill you."

"Bloody—" Fred exclaimed, leaping to his feet at Liam and I shushed him: if we got caught with a cursing student in the library, any façade we'd put on thus far of being good, law-abiding prefects would be lost.

"You were supposed to be keeping track of the time!" Albus accused Fred as he pushed his chair back with a clatter, lifting his bag onto his shoulder.

"Did you actually trust me—_me_—to keep track of time?" Fred demanded skeptically, throwing his books and quills into his bag in a tumble of school supplies.

"Bye love—I'll see you later—" Al ducked down to kiss me lightly for a half a moment before Fred grabbed his arm and they took off in a clatter of bumping into furniture and shushes from Madame Pince.

"Jeez." Liam murmured. "You'd think Grace was a mass murderer for the way they run." I snorted in laughter, and Liam grinned at me, before looking back down at his test; he was pretty obviously proud of it.

"You did really well." I told him after a minute. "Good job." I kicked him under the table for good measure, and Liam nodded, glancing up at me.

"I've been studying since summer." Liam shook his head. "Have to prove to my granddad that this Hogwarts thing isn't a complete waste of money—"

"He calls it that?" I asked, my eyebrows shooting up. Liam shrugged. "You told your grandparents about your magic?"

"Not in so many words." Liam began, scratching his head. "And when I started out, we'd just bought our house and Mum didn't have the money to blow on books and a wand and such so she told Granddad and he lent her the money." He paused. "He's a good guy though. He's just intense—since he doesn't know much about magic, the only thing I can really show him as proof of nonstupidity is grades." I snickered at the word _nonstupidity_. It was good that Liam only aimed to be not stupid, not, say, smart.

"That's good." I said, smiling a little. "I had the same problem when I started out—Longbottom actually bought me my wand." I looked down at the table, exhaling shortly as I remembered that event. "And Rose's parents bought Cormac's."

"Have you talked to Rose recently?" Liam asked, his voice flat. I glanced up at him, looking at him intently; his voice was flat, but for both of us, Rose was not an emotionless topic. When I didn't respond, Liam met my gaze evenly. "I talked to her the other night…" He paused, wincing a little. "She's going to Beauxbatons next year."

"She told me she might, over Christmas break." I murmured. Liam nodded once.

"You need to tell her not to." Liam said lowly. I blinked, then felt my expressionless face melt into sympathy. God. What had it taken Liam to build up the balls to say that to me?

"Liam…" I said softly. "Maybe it's for the best. You could…"

"Can't." Liam said shortly, refusing to say anything else. I met his gaze, and he just shook his head. "I know it's stupid."

"It's not stupid…" I said quietly.

"Whatever," Liam said, shaking his head a little. "I'm not having that conversation. I'm asking you, as a reasonably good friend, to tell Rose that she doesn't have to leave."

"Are we friends?" I asked, a little mockingly. Liam rolled his eyes.

"I can tolerate you better than most people." Liam said shortly. "And you have too much insight into the Rose/me situation for you to be my enemy." I exhaled. Liam was asking me for a favor—a really big favor. The kind of favor that mattered, long term. It struck me that I really was close to Liam, for him to be okay asking me this.

"Yeah." I said after a minute. "Sure. I'll ask Rose to stay." Liam stared at me, then let out the breath he'd been holding, looking down at his test.

"Thanks." He muttered.

"I don't want to be all alone in my dorm, anyway." I offered us both salvation from the serious emotion in this conversation. Liam didn't do emotion, and I didn't do emotion—the fact that he'd been willing to evoke it to get Rose to stay at Hogwarts said something to me. "I—" I stopped as my bag, which rested on the ground beside my feet, lit up. I glanced down at it suprisedly, then felt dread creep into my veins, making my stomach twist. The only thing in my bag that lit up was the mirror—the one I kept with me always, the one that Nate had the matching one for.

Fuck.

I reached down, snatching my mirror out of my bag and slipping it onto my lap. I dragged my fingertip across the mirror, sliding it from one corner to the one diagonal to it, and the mirror's image swam from my face into—Finn's.

"Finn?" I murmured lowly; Liam glanced up at me, but I didn't even look at him, too busy staring at my little brother's best friend. Finn was tall with darker skin than the Gale Family's typical Irish, easy-to-burn skin—I thought he might have been Greek, or maybe Italian, somewhere in his bloodline. "What—"

"Nate gave his mirror tablet computer thing to me—he—" Finn paused, and I realized he looked really freaked out; his eyes were wide and too shiny, his face pale.

"Finn." I hissed when he didn't continue; my heart was pounding in my chest, now, bouncing off my ribs and pressing on my lungs, making every breath I took a little shallower. "Tell me."

"At the football game, we were playing, and I was across the field, I'm goalie—but Nate's a midfielder and he had the ball and he was bringing it up and then another player tripped him and he fell and when he got up, your dad had run up to the side of the field where he was—" Finn was babbling, so badly that I was barely following this story, but even the idea that Dad had been at Nate's game made me nervous. "He said something and I didn't hear, but it had to be bad because Nate just leapt at him."

_Nate just leapt at him_. I sucked the emotion out of my expression at this news, even though it made a headache explode between my temples. Nate had finally lost it—he'd finally broken. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I'd known this would happen. Nate and I were not never-ending reserves of patience and crisis management. This was a hellish middle ground—the path to nowhere good. We'd been waiting for the other shoe to drop for _months._

And here it was.

"Is Nate okay?" I asked after a beat of silence, my still-quiet voice harsher than I meant it to me; I thought Liam might have said something to me, but I was far too focused on Finn to give a damn what Liam had to tell me.

"He's…" Finn stopped, shaking his head; he ran a hand over his dark hair and I felt my jaw tighten.

"Finn!" I snapped.

"The police came—" Finn said, unable to keep the panic out of his voice, and it reminded me of when Finn, Nate, and I had all been little kids. Finn was always the panicker—every time Nate fell and scraped his knee or I fell backwards off the swing, he was the one who cried. "They _arrested_ Nate."

I stared down at Finn, cold calculations becoming clear in my head. Nate had been arrested. Nate—my Nate, the Nate who had the grades to go to University. Nate would get expelled from Lerner for getting arrested. Nate would never get to University. Nate would never leave Nottingham.

"Why the fuck did they arrest Nate?" My voice was a high-pitched whisper that scared even me. "Nate's—"

"Because Nate was winning the fight." Finn muttered distressedly. "So it looked bad for him. And your dad stopped fighting the second they came around but by then Nate had hurt his wrist and the other people told them they'd both been participants—" Finn shook his head. "They arrested your dad too. But—Nate."

"Nate." I agreed lowly, my throat feeling gritty. Dad had been arrested would normally be a redflag—the sort of red flag that would have brought me home any day. But Nate couldn't get arrested. "Okay—I'll take care of it, I'll be at the station in five minutes." I told him.

"How?" Finn demanded. "Aren't you at school-?"

"Does it fucking matter how, Finn?" I hissed. Finn shook his head mutely. I stared at Finn, and he shook his head back at me. "How did this _happen_?" I whispered, and Finn shook his head; I blinked, suddenly realizing that the game had probably been at Nate's school; the twins would have been there. "Cal and Ellie—" I realized aloud.

"The police took them with them down to the station." Finn told me softly. "They're there now. They're looking for your mum—" I stared at Finn. Where would Mum be? Work? Or with Mr. Causer? My brain played with that for a moment before it shut down; I didn't care, at this point. I just had to pull the kids out of this death spiral. Not Dad. Not Mum.

"I'll handle this." I murmured. "Thank you, Finn, for calling me."

"Yeah, no problem…" He shook his head. I nodded, then I drew my finger across the surface of the mirror. The call ended, and I took a shallow breath, before I shoved the mirror back into my bag. Adrenaline had hit me at some point in the call because now everything was cold and sharp, just the way I liked it when there was a problem. I lifted my bag onto the table, putting my books in it quickly.

"What the fuck is going on?" Liam hissed at me, and I glanced up at him even as I wrestled my practice OWL into the bag. "Why the hell were you just talking to a mirror?"

I didn't even dignify his questions with responses; Al stared at me. "I need you to tell Albus something for me—" I told him lowly, and Liam was just staring at me. "Are you listening?" I demanded.

"Tell me what's happening." He said lowly. I stared at him.

"Nate finally broke and attacked my dad." I muttered, pushing my hair out of my face. "They both got arrested." The words felt strange leaving my tongue, and my head was still spinning. _Nate had gotten arrested_. "I need you to wait like ten minutes and then—" I looked up at Liam, my gaze serious. "I need you to wait ten minutes and then _find Albus_."

"You find Albus." Liam muttered.

"I'm going home." I told him.

"You're leaving?" Liam demanded, louder; I shushed him, but nodded. "What?"

"Nate needs me to help him." I told him lowly; Liam was staring at me. "And _I_ need you to go find Albus." Liam swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing, before he nodded once. "Tell him Nate and Dad got arrested. That I left. I have to go."

"You can't just go home." Liam muttered as he stared at me. I exhaled. "Molly—If I show up and tell Albus that you left for Nottingham—he'll kill me."

"I'm convincing Rose to stick around." I hissed at him. Liam exhaled shortly, before he nodded. "You can take a hit from Albus for me." Liam nodded again, and I forced myself away from the table and away from Liam. I ducked across the library, and Madame Pince shushed me on my way out; I ignored her, slipping out the door and staring at the empty hall before me for a moment, my back against the door to the library. This was bad.

That was all I allowed myself before I ducked down the hallway, starting out just walking; my heart was pounding too hard, though, and my limbs were tingling, so I broke into a run, glad for the empty hallways except for a few first years I didn't recognize. I got to the hallway with Longbottom's office on it and I stopped in front of his door, knocking furiously against it. I opened and closed my fists as I waited, bouncing on the balls of my feet, but no one came to the door; I knocked again. Still, nothing.

_Shit_. I glanced shadily from side to side, checking that the hallway was empty—and indeed it was—before I pulled my wand out, tapping Longbottom's doorknob. "_Alohamora_," I breathed, and I heard the lock pop. I swallowed; I wished Hogwarts had open grates, but you couldn't just floo out the Gryffindor Common Room's floo without having it unlocked by the head of house. God, Longbottom was going to kill me.

I slipped inside, closing the door quietly behind me before I crossed to the fire place. I grabbed a fistful of floo powder from the mantle and stepped into the fireplace, throwing the powder down without hesitation. "17 Doordan Drive." That was the address for the magical pub in the main town of Nottingham, the one I floo'd into; even as I spun away, though, I was thinking about my next step. I landed unsteadily, taking two steps from the fireplace to make sure I was balanced enough to stay upright, before I closed my eyes and pulled my arms in. With a crack, I disapparated, and in a breath, I was standing in the little, dreary, wooded area behind the police station. I hid my wand in my school bag then smoothed down my skirt as I walked quickly around the building; it wasn't very tall, and made of washed out bricks. I lifted my bag higher on my shoulder as I walked inside, spotting a desk immediately; I walked up to it, and the police officer sitting behind it, looked up at me.

"Hi—" I said briefly, then realized that what I had to say sounded bad. I exhaled shortly, staring for a moment at the young officer. "My name is Molly Gale—Nathanial and Roger Gale were arrested earlier this afternoon? And Callum and Elena Gale were brought in because they were there—I need to pick them up."

"Can I see ID?" she asked. I nodded, thanking every lucky star I knew of that I had a photo ID for Lerner Prep; you needed one to pick up a kid, and I was still on the list of people allowed to pick up Cal and Ellie. I rifled through my school bag, pulling out my wallet and flipping it open. I pulled out my Lerner Prep ID and held it up, my hand shaking a little. The woman took it from me, inspecting it before she looked back up to me, then she passed it back.

"They're here." She said gently, smiling briefly at me. "Through the double doors is the main room—they're with Officer Belitz—" I tore away from the desk, and pushed through the doors; there was a large room with several desks; they all had police officers at them, and I scanned the room, until I spotted Ellie and Cal; Ellie was crying, and Cal was staring, wide-eyed at the man, who was apparently trying to talk to them comfortingly, if his expression was any indication.

"Ellie—" I called out, and the twins looked up; Cal was the first one up, knocking into two police officers on his way over, and I hugged him to me tightly, smoothing his hair down. Cal looked up at me miserably, his eyes swimming with tears, and I pressed my lips together. "Hey baby boy." I murmured to him, my voice unsteady.

"They took Natey away—" Ellie sobbed as she slammed into me, pressing her tear-stained face into my blazer; I felt my jaw tighten as frustration bubbled in my stomach. I knew the police had a job to do, but for the love of God, it took ten seconds to tell what was going on in my family. They could have let Nate sit with the kids until someone else they knew got here, at least.

"It's okay, it's okay, shh…" I murmured, rubbing their backs; I looked up angrily as the police officer who'd been with them stood up and walked over.

"You're Molly?" He guessed; I nodded, frowning at him. "Nathanial said you'd come—you're the big sister." He told me, and I felt a rush of guilt so heavy that a lump arose in my throat. Nate had said I'd come—because I'd told him I would, because when I came, _I would fix everything_. But I was standing here and the twins were crying and Nate and Dad had been _arrested_. I couldn't fix this.

"Nate's friend called me…" I said thickly, looking up at him. "What's…" I stopped myself, looking down at Cal and Ellie. Ellie looked up at me tearfully, and I disentangled myself from their arms to crouch down, more at their eye level. I cupped Ellie's cheek, using my thumb to wipe away a few stray tears.

"What happened?" I asked her softly. She stared up at me, then looked back to the police officer, then back to me, and shook her head. I frowned at her, glancing up at the man distrustfully; he looked suitably distressed by her obvious wordless accusation, so I just looked back to Ellie. "Baby girl, you've got to tell me what's going on." Ellie shook her head adamantly, glancing at Cal; I looked to Cal, feeling nervous. Why wouldn't they tell me what was going on? "Cal?"

"Can't." Cal mumbled unhappily, and I winced, smoothing his hair back from his face.

"Cal…" I said softly; he would be easier to talk into talking to me then Ellie.

"We can't say anything." Cal insisted softly. I shook my head; I didn't understand. Cal looked visibly distressed at this, glancing back at the police officer, before he looked back to me, leaning forward and whispering: "because you told us not to."

I closed my eyes, ducking my head as I sucked in a deep breath, my head spinning. _They couldn't say anything because I'd told them not to_. I'd told the kids twenty millions times to not say anything about my magic, to not say anything about Dad getting worse, until we were here, in a police station. And now my own rule was coming back to bite me. Because the kids weren't allowed to talk to me or Nate about this stuff unless I had explicitly told them it was alright.

What had I done?

The rules had landed us here. The rules where we shut up and took blow after blow—figurative and literal. If I'd let the Potters call the police in August, this wouldn't have happened. If I'd let Mrs. Potter call the police in December, when she'd wanted to in St. Mungo's. If I'd ever looked up after one of Nate's worse letters and said to Fred or Albus that I was waving the white flag. But because we were the Gales, we shut up and took it. No one had breathed a word of what was happening to the important people—the people who could change it. Nate and I had wordlessly decided that early on, because things weren't bad and only happened every once and a while, and I loved my family the way it was.

But we couldn't do this anymore. I was close to tears, Cal and Ellie were getting picked up in a _police station_, and Nate—my silence had gotten my little brother arrested. He was a fifteen-year-old boy, and I'd asked him to do too much.

"Molly?" Cal's soft voice brought me back, and I looked up at him, feeling tears prickle at my vision as panic and sorrow smothered my lungs.

"I'm okay." I told him softly, forcing a reassuring smile. I swallowed, letting my smile drop. "I'm going to fix this, okay?" I said hoarsely, my voice thick. "Alright, Cal? I'm gonna fix this." Cal nodded, looking at me seriously, and I leaned forward, kissing his forehead before I pulled back, looking to Ellie. She stared at me. "Guys, can you go back to the seats from before?" I asked softly. "I need to talk to the police officer."

"I don't want to…" Ellie mumbled to me, and I smoothed down her hair, so much like mine, which was in a messy braid. Dad didn't braid hair, and Mum braided neatly. This was Nate's work. "Can't we just stay with you?"

"I have to take care of Natey." I told her softly. "And I can only do that if you guys are sitting over there, because or else I'll just want to take care of you. And I promise I will come back over in ten seconds. I just need to take care of Nate." Ellie stared up at me miserably, but she nodded, pulling back. I ducked down, kissing the top of her head, and she grabbed Cal's hand; he led the way back to the chairs by the police officer's desk. I watched them go, feeling dizzy, before I straightened up, wincing as my knees protested; I felt old. I looked up to the officer after a moment. "What happened that you arrested _Nate_?" I demanded after a beat, accusation in my words; I was proud that my voice was a little steadier.

"Your brother attacked your dad." The officer said quietly to me; he was watching me, trying to read my expression. "Nathanial broke your dad's nose. Your dad sprained Nathanial's wrist, but that looks like an accident—"

"No." I cut him off, shaking my head firmly. "You don't…understand." I exhaled. This was a car wreck of epic proportions. I just had to somehow wrangle Nate out of this mess. But I didn't even know most of what happened. "Has Nate said anything to you?" I murmured, pushing my hair out of my face.

The police officer looked at me seriously, and I felt a lump rise in my throat. Goddammit, when had all of this spun so far out of my control? "When we asked if there was anyone to call for him—he told us you'd come. Didn't give us a phone number, he said he hadn't somehow called you before we arrested him." The man said after a moment, his voice tired. "He hasn't answered a single other question we've asked." I ran a hand down my face. Of course he hadn't. Nate was following the rules too. I'd made the rules and the kids followed them. The rules were everyone shut up.

But the silence had landed us _here_.

I swallowed, staring at the man. He was younger than my father—maybe early thirties—with light brown hair that might have passed as blond, and a nose that was just a little too big, his eyes just a little too small. He looked world-weary, regardless; he thought he knew what was happening here. I'd thought I understood _too_. I'd thought things were alright.

"I need to talk to Nate." I said after a beat. The police officer raised his eyebrows, then shook his head.

"Unless you bail him out, he's spending tonight here—" The officer said quietly, and I felt my stomach drop out. I couldn't talk to Nate. Nate didn't have any answers for these guys—he was trusting me to sweep in and fix this. But I was the one who had _broken _it. My rules were shit. That much was clear.

"It's not Nate's fault and I can only prove that if you let me talk to him." I said lowly.

"Molly," the man said my name quietly to me, his voice sympathetic and calming, were I some other girl with some other situation, but I felt myself losing _everything, _here. "Your brother attacked your dad in front of fifty odd witnesses." He took a deep breath, looking at me hard, and I shook my head wordlessly; that was how this situation looked. That was _not _how this situation was. "We still don't know why. But the fact of it is, it happened." He tilted his head to the side, seemingly absorbing the alarm that was coming off me in waves. "Look," he began, apologetically, "the judge will let your brother off with community service, probably—" My head spun at the words. This man was suggesting that that was the best case scenario. Best case scenario: Nate gets community service hours.

No.

I stared at him, feeling tears prickle at my eyes. I was fighting a losing battle, here; I couldn't talk to Nate, figure out what _actually _happened. Since I didn't know the whole story, I couldn't make up a lie that fit it. A lie wouldn't get Nate out of jail; the police were not concerned teachers, friends' parents. The police needed real evidence, they checked stories. Oh, hell. I couldn't lie my way out of this. But Nate needed me to fix this. "I have to talk to Nate." I insisted. "You don't—I promise you, I swear—this isn't Nate's fault."

"How, Molly?" The man asked me, softly. He was trying to make me see the 'truth'. He didn't want to be mean about it. "How could it not be—"

"Dad's—" I cut myself off, pressing my hand to my mouth. But I had to finish that sentence, because I only had one option. My mind was going at a hundred miles an hour, but in circles; there had to be an alternative. There had to be a fix here, a lying fix that got Nate off. I didn't have to tell these officers that my family was a disaster that they'd just stepped in on. That couldn't be what was happening here.

But the circles my minds were running in always ended in the same place. Nate in jail. Nate with a record. Nate not going to University.

Nate _never_ _getting_ _out_.

"Honey, let's sit down—" The police officer said after a moment, looking at me concernedly; my eyes watered, a tear slipping from the corner of my eye; I swiped it away immediately. "I'll get you some water—this must be a terrible shock for you, I know—"

"It's Dad's fault, I swear—" I tried desperately, but a tear broke free, streaking down my face; the man put his hand on my shoulder, leading me to a desk, but I pulled free of him, flashing him a glare as I swiped at my eyes. He sighed.

"Honey…" the man said softly.

"No—please just—believe me." I was stumbling over my words, rambling, panicking. Because I saw only one way out and it was my fault we were even here. The rules had buried us here in this silence and these lies. This was my fault and I couldn't believe it because I'd _tried_. I'd tried _so damned hard_ and on some level, I'd believed that would be enough. "I know it doesn't make sense right now." I told the police officer after a moment. "I know. But please—Nathanial, if you look at his grades, they're good, and he is best friends with the coach's kid. He is a good kid." I stared at the man. "If you'd give me ten seconds to talk to him, I could—"

"I can't do that." The man said firmly. I swallowed. I was trapped. I only had one way to pull Nate free of this. I either told the truth—the whole truth, the from-the-beginning truth—or let Nate fall into this potential black hole. If I let Dad get away with landing Nate in front of a criminal court, there would be no stopping him from doing it again. This ride from hell we were on—it would spin faster and faster until I couldn't see the world outside my family. Until Nate was lost in that maze.

I had a chance to get off, with the kids, with Nate, right now.

So I did. I got off the ride. "Dad hurts us." The words left me harshly, the confession I'd been avoiding since August. The one I'd made twelve thousand excuses for. I could fix my family if I had a few more months; I could make Mum leave Dad, make her take the kids with her. But I didn't have a few more months. I didn't even have days. Anything I even came up with in the next ten minutes or anything I came up with would sound like a lie to these officers. And I couldn't take the chance of my not being able to pull Nate through this. "He hurt my arm in August, and kicked me out—I took our other little brother with me, he's eleven—" I shook my head. "My best friend's parents have custody of us now. Dad sort of pushed me down some stairs in December. He broke Nate's hand in November and Nate lied to me—he told me it was this boy at school but then he said—he told me in December." I stopped, pressing my lips together. "If Nate attacked him, it's because Dad threatened me, or Ellie or Cal or Cory." My eyes were rapidly drying, the desire to cry easily disappating because it was over. "Nate's a good kid. Dad's the bad one." The man's face twisted sadly, but I didn't care.

We'd gotten off the ride.


	28. Fold Your Hands Child

**A/N**: This is the big chapter. And this big chapter is dedicated to my 400th reviewer (AHH 400 REVIEWS) Blue is the Sea. I have never heard from you before, Blue is the Sea, but I love you. Because you gave me this ninja long review that happened to be my 400th and I am officially dead with gratefulness.

On another note: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Pt. 2 comes out in 9 days. I might be freaking out. Just a little. A wee bit.

And since I haven't thanked reviewers in a while (and I love each and every one of you with all my heart): **kenzieeeee**, **Blue is the Sea**, **NinjaHarryPotter4Life**, **Reaching High**, **pottercullen-4ever**, **KaitlynEmmaRose**, **Twelvepastnever**, **Alicecullenisrealinmyworld**, **Molivline**, **Pebbles287**, **SpencerReid89**, **ixamxeverywhere**, **NotADreamYetNotANightmare**, **angel2u**, **PilgrimEm**, **xxsockixxx**, **hushpuppy22.**

Thank you. For reals. Every review means so much to me.

P.S. with this chapter, I officially surpass the length of No Chance. :D

* * *

Fold Your Hands Child

'_Cause we do what we gotta do,  
We never even cared about you,  
It's the truth (It's the truth)…  
So fold your hands child, and walk straight now,  
Go on take your best shot…  
I know the fear is paralyzing,  
When nothing matters at all.  
-Cobra Starship_

The silence stretched between us at my confession, my eyes on the officer. We just stood there. After a minute of silence, however, he finally spoke, his voice soft. "Alright, sweetheart." He exhaled. "Alright." He put a hand on the back of his head, looking back at the officers in the rest of the room. "Let's—let's go get your brother and find out what actually happened, then." He turned away from me, and I followed him, taking slow, deep breaths; the police officer paused by a desk half-way across the room, where another man was typing something. I stopped awkwardly behind him, crossing my arms across my chest.

"Ken, this is Molly." Officer Belitz said quietly to the man, pulling back as the man at the desk spun in his chair to face me. "She's Nathanial's older sister, Roger Gale's oldest kid." The man looked up at me. "Molly, this is officer Ken Merem." He gestured to the seated officer, an older black man with a buzz cut. "He and I were the ones who arrested your brother and your dad." He paused. "Tell him what you told me."

I pressed my lips together. I exhaled; this was the first of the twelve million times I would have to say this again. I'd have to tell whatever children's services worker they got in here. I'd probably have to say it in front of a court at some point.

But I had to, because Nate couldn't go down with this.

"My dad hurts us." I said, my voice hoarse; there was a lump in my throat as I forced myself to do this. "If Nate attacked my dad, it's because he threatened my brothers or my sister or me."

Officer Merem looked at me seriously for a moment. "If that's the case, Molly, why wouldn't Nate just tell us?" His voice was low and honest; he didn't want to be rude, or skeptical. He just wanted to understand what was going on. So did I.

I pushed my hair out of my face, my mind spinning as I separated the existence of magic from this tale. "I go to boarding school." I said softly. "Our other little brother, he's eleven—he just started there this year." I pressed my lips together; I couldn't ramble. "At the beginning, Dad only hated me—it was just me, and since I went to boarding school nine months of the year, I just figured—who cares? I'd deal with him when I was home and the kids could just be—normal." My voice shook on the word 'normal,' so I plowed on. "But then this year, Cormac started. And Dad's thing against me—Dad suddenly had it against Cormac too. And Dad got so pissed when Cormac got his acceptance letter that he hurt my wrist and he pushed me into the wall, and Cormac and I had to leave. I went to stay with my friends, took Cormac with me." I bit my lip. "But Nate and I wrote each other, and we just agreed not to tell anyone. We told the kids not to either. Because I'd come home and I'd fix it. I'd make Dad leave. Or I'd just stay away with Cormac and maybe things would get better. Because I was the problem and I wasn't there and _that should have made it better._" I heard myself rambling so I shut up, because they got the gist of what I was saying by now. "Nate's just following our rules. He's not telling because I told him not to."

Officer Merem glanced up at Officer Belitz, before he looked back to me, his face softening. "I'll have to call CPS." He told me quietly; it took a moment for the acronym to register as _Children's Protective Services_ with me. "You'll all have protective orders—go into foster homes."

"My mum isn't—she doesn't hurt us." I mumbled, pushing my hair away from my face; my cheeks were damp, and a few strands stuck there. "We can just—stay with her." The officer raised his eyebrows.

"I'll call her." He offered, holding up a post-it pad and a pen, "If you'll give me her number, that is."

I took it, handling the pen carefully; it'd been a while since I'd used one. I scribbled down my mother's cell phone number, then wrote her name above it, underlining that once and holding out to him. He took it from me silently, putting it down on the desk before he looked back up at me. "I still have to call CPS." He murmured. I nodded; he looked up at Officer Belitz. "Go talk to Nathanial again, bring Molly—let's wait for CPS to talk to him." Officer Belitz nodded, looking to me. "He's in Interrogation Room three."

"Alright—come on, Molly." The man said quietly, gesturing for me to follow him with a quick wave of his hand; he led the way between a few desks, then down a hallway with several black doors on it; we got to the third one, and the man turned the door knob, opening the door. My little brother was sitting in a metal chair at a black table in the middle of the room; there was a chair on the other side of the table, presumably for a police officer. He glanced up, his mouth opening slightly when he spotted me.

"Jesus, Nate." I mumbled, going forward; Nate pushed himself to his feet just in time for me to hug him tightly. I exhaled shakily as I closed my eyes, allowing myself a moment of relaxation. Nate was safe. I pulled back, looking up at him, and his eyes were wide; he was terrified. I pressed my lips together, blinking rapidly to stave off the tears that still threatened to impose. I took a step back, looking down at Nate's arm; his hand and wrist were wrapped in ace bandage up to his elbow. "Bloody hell." I mumbled, extending the arm. "Is it sprained?" I looked up, accusatorily at the police officer. "Did you take him to the hospital?"

"The paramedics on scene said that he was fine." Officer Belitz said to me quietly. "And your brother turned down further medical treatment." I exhaled shortly, glancing back to Nate; he had massive circles under his eyes, and there was a reddish spot on his cheekbone that was a bruise in the making.

"What—I mean—" He looked over my shoulder, to the police officer, before looking back at me. "Have you talked to the police officers?" He asked me after a beat, his voice low.

I nodded easily. "They're letting you go." I murmured to him.

"How did you do that?" Nate muttered; I exhaled shortly, pressing my lips together as I stared at my brother. Nate wasn't stupid; he knew I wouldn't use magic on a muggle, and he knew I couldn't talk his way out of this. I exhaled as I wiped the sleeve of my gray blazer over my cheeks. "Are you _crying_?" Nate muttered, running his good hand over his hair.

"Yeah." I said shortly. "I am." I closed my eyes, dropping my chin to my chest and taking a deep breath; I had to do this. I looked up at Officer Belitz. "Can I have a minute?" I asked quietly. He hesitated, before he nodded, slipping back into the hallway and closing the door behind him; I looked back to Nate. "Okay, Nate—I need you to tell me what happened." I said lowly to him, my voice hoarse as I stepped towards him; somewhere in the part of my head that refused to cut me a break, I recognized I was being a coward. I didn't want to tell Nate what I'd done. And I hated myself for that.

I forced myself to say something else, because Nate wasn't responding, still just staring at me in the terrified but hopeful way all the kids stared at me. It made my lungs feel tight—they wanted me to fix things. They thought I could. How wrong they were. "I think we only have a few minutes before the Weasleys show up," I said hollowly after another beat of silence.

Nate frowned defensively at this, and I swallowed in relief; another minute of freedom from Nate knowing, from Nate hating me. "The Weasleys?" Nate demanded, his voice irritated. "Shit, do they just go _everywhere_ you go—"

"Nathanial, I know you are having a bad day," I began lowly, my voice angry, "but since I'm the one who is picking up _all but one _of my little siblings at a fucking _police station_, I'm right up there with you, so just _shut up about the Weasleys_ and tell me what the hell is going on." I glared at him.

Nate sighed, running his hand down his face. "Ellie's got magic." He murmured after a moment of silence, cutting to the chase. I closed my eyes, leaning back against the wall of the small interrogation room; I folded, pressing my forehead to my knees. I was at my breaking point, here. Of course Ellie had magic. Because nothing was ever easy—just as hard as it could possibly be. Just hard enough to get me and Nate here, in a police station, while I staved off a breakdown. "She made a plant grow—like overnight." The words were far away, Nate's voice thick and hoarse; if I'd been able to, I would have straightened up, but as it was, I was fairly sure I was about to keel over. "It was for a school project. Her teacher gave her the seeds yesterday. This morning we woke up—Dad was still asleep—and there was ivy everywhere. _Everywhere._ I could barely get her door open." Nate shook his head. "Dad saw it when we were at school, I guess, because by the time he got to my soccer game, he was fuming. He said he was kicking Ellie out—that I had to call you and you could take her—" Anger, hard and fast, forced me to snap up, staring at Nate; Nate nodded, staring back at me, his eyes now red-rimmed. "He wanted to kick a _seven-year-old girl _out of his house, Molly." Nate's words had dropped to a desperate whisper. "I just—I wanted to fucking kill him. You were at least fifteen—not an adult, but—something—but Ellie can't even braid her own hair—" Nate shook his head. "I'm sorry. I fucked up by attacking him but I couldn't help it."

"He wanted to kick Ellie out of the house?" I repeated in a strained whisper.

"I know." Nate mumbled, shaking his head. "I just—lost it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"No it's—" I shook my head. "It's nothing you did."

"I mean, now that we're not under arrest—" Nate mumbled, grasping for straws, because we were the Gales and that was all that we had a chance at. "It's fine. But we still need—"

"No, Nate—" I said hoarsely; the lump in my throat was too big to speak past comfortably, suddenly, and I felt like I was about to explode into tears, unlike the occasional-tear thing going on right now. "Nate, you're not both let go. Just you."

Nate stared at me. The silence grew, expanding to fit us until it began to smother me. Nate just stared, though; he didn't know how to respond. God, neither did I. "Just me?" Nate asked softly after a minute.

"I couldn't let you fall through the cracks." I whispered, pressing my hand to my cheek; my hand was shaking, and my cheek was hot and damp. Nate was still staring at me; he didn't understand. I had to explain. "I told them about Dad's hurting us." The words physically hurt my throat, which now felt so swollen that even the swallow of fear after that sentence just shot pain through me.

"Molly…" A tear streaked down Nate's face, over the would-be bruise, and it made my heart twist; my tears broke through the last of my defenses, beginning to stream down my face, one after another, too fast to count. "You told them." Nate broke his gaze from me, turning away from me, and I tilted my head to the side. "You told them. How could you tell them? How—you of all people!" Nate's voice was too high. He was freaking out. This was the end of his line—Nate didn't have enough left to deal with this. I knew that. I hadn't wanted to tell him because I'd known that. "You're fucking—" He turned back to me, his eyes wide and panicked. Nate was panicking. "You're supposed to be the _leader_, Molly! You _fix_ us—you don't implode us! I can't do this by myself and you just—told the _police_? You freaked out when I told _Finn_ but the _police _are alright?" Nate demanded; I couldn't help the sob that bubbled up at this, and I pressed my hand to my mouth, smothering it as best I could. Nate got to yell. I'd just blown our lives to hell. "Have you lost your _mind_? You and Cormac have this nice new life with the Weasleys but _we're still here_! I don't have anywhere else to _go_, Molly! Mum can't take care of us! She'll have a breakdown—she won't even divorce Dad! She's not up to raising three kids!" I sobbed again, looking away from my brother. "What could you _possibly _have been thinking?"

"You would have had a record, Nate." I whispered hoarsely, staring at the door. "A _criminal_ record. You would have gotten kicked out of Lerner—"

"I was willing to do that!" Nate cried. "I was willing to have that happen! That's my choice and I made it when I didn't tell them anything!"

"Nate—" My voice broke, as I looked back to my brother. "Stop."

"No!" Nate cried desperately, pushing his hair back. "How could you do this?"

"I had to." I whispered, closing my eyes. I didn't care that this wasn't what Nate needed—I didn't even care that I was crying, anymore. I was too far gone. Nate was pissed at me. Dad was in jail. But the kids were safe. They were going to be safe forever. That was what mattered most and I'd made it happen. If Nate never spoke to me again, so be it. He would be safe.

"Why did you have to?" Nate demanded, his voice dropping to a low moan. I opened my eyes to look at him; he was leaning against the table now, his hands resting on it beside him. "What force could have driven you to do that?"

"Nate, this was our last chance to get out." I told him softly, shaking my head; my tears were still coming. They wouldn't stop for a while, I thought, because my throat was still so swollen, my lungs still so tight. "Everything from here on out—it would be nothing, compared to this. Dad hitting us, Dad breaking us, Dad hating us—who the hell cares, after you face a criminal court rather than rat on him?" I pressed my lips together. "I couldn't let us go down in this storm, Nate. Because no matter how strong we are, no matter how much we love the kids, this would destroy us." I sobbed softly, then bit my lip, trying to catch my breath. "You would never get out, not with a criminal record. Lerner would expel you. No university would accept you. You would live forever in Nottingham, never making enough money to get out." I shook my head. "And maybe that should have been your choice, but I'm your big sister, Nate. And I don't let anyone fall through the cracks and you came damned close today. I had to fix that."

Nate exhaled, ducking his head and covering his face with his hands, and I watched him painfully. "I wanted to fix it, Nate. I wanted to come up with something that kept everyone out of jail _so badly_, because I love Dad, too, twisted as it is." I shook my head. "But that just couldn't work. I didn't even have enough information to lie well. So I did the next best thing."

"How is it the next best thing if Dad's in jail?" Nate whispered into his hands.

"Because the alternative was so much worse." I said softly. "The alternative was the beginning of the end. This, at least, can sort of be worked with."

"I don't think so, Molly." Nate murmured to me, lifting his head to look at me darkly. I swallowed. "I don't think we can work with this and I think you can't see that because you've changed since you went back to Hogwarts. You got spoiled there because you have a new family and a new boyfriend and you forgot what it's like to be here, to live this. And then you marched right back in and made a decision and you've _killed_ us." Nate stood up, stalking towards the door, and I swallowed as he opened the door and slipped into the hallway; I followed him out after a moment, wiping at my cheeks with the sleeve of my dampened blazer. Fuck.

Nate was really, really angry with me.

But I wasn't going to let him just walk away like this. I followed him into the hallway and back into the main room, with the desks; the twins were still seated beside Officer Belitz's desk. He was talking to Officer Merem, and when I met his eyes, he held up a finger to signal he'd be with me in a moment, a brief look of sympathy flitting across his face. I nodded to him, then looked back to Cal and Ellie; the twins were watching us, and I swallowed, forcing my tears to stop as Nate and I approached them. They didn't get up to greet us, or even say anything; instead, they just stared up at us as we stopped in front of them, and I glanced at Nate. He didn't return the look, only crouching down in front of Ellie, smiling a little at her. "You alright, sweetheart?" He asked softly. Ellie nodded, then looked up at me. I smiled a little at her too.

"Nate told me what happened." I said softly to her and Cal; Ellie bit her lip, while Cal shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "You didn't do anything wrong, baby girl."

"I didn't want to be magic." She whispered. I let my breath out slowly, avoiding more tears, another sob. The time for breakdowns was past. The twins were here. They needed me.

"It's not always so scary." I told her. "Sometimes it's fun. You'll see." I looked down to Cal. "You okay, kiddo?" I asked softly. He nodded once, but he was chewing worriedly on his lip; I sighed, reaching down to lift his seven-year-old self up, and then I set him on his feet briefly, taking his seat and then pulling him into my lap. He immediately curled against me, turning in my lap so he was facing Ellie, and then resting his head in the space between my neck and my shoulder. His breathing was a little shaky; he was trying not to cry anymore. Poor baby.

"Is Daddy coming out?" He mumbled against me after a moment; this time, when I looked to Nate, he was staring accusatorily at me, even as he tenderly smoothed down Ellie's hair. I had to tell them.

"No, Daddy's probably going to jail." I told them softly. Cal nodded once against me, and Ellie bit her lip, looking up at me tearfully.

"Is it—" she hiccupped, her sob cutting off her whole sentence, "is it because of me?"

"No, baby girl." Nate got there first, his voice soft. "Nothing going on here is your fault. You didn't do anything wrong." He offered Ellie a shaky smile.

"But you and Molly were both _crying_…" Ellie whispered tentatively. Nate looked at me, his gaze once again angry.

"Because Molly told the police about how angry Dad gets." Nate said quietly, his gaze still on me. "And that's going to have some serious consequences for us." Nate looked back to Ellie.

"You told?" Ellie mumbled, looking up at me, her eyes wide. I nodded, not speaking. I wasn't dragging my fight with Nate in front of the twins. They didn't need that right now. Instead, I just reached down, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Yeah, baby girl." I murmured. "I told."

"But you told us…" She mumbled, looking confused. "You told us never to tell." I stared at Ellie. Had I brainwashed these kids? Or was repeating something a hundred times just enough to fool two seven-year-olds, an eleven-year-old, and a fifteen-year-old into believing that it was true? _A sixteen-year-old too_, a nasty part of my brain threw at me. I'd fooled myself, too. I'd thought I could fix this.

Obviously, I couldn't.

"I was wrong." I told her, a little hoarser. "I'm sorry."

Ellie stared at me, and Cal straightened up in my lap, turning slightly to look up at me before he reached up to pat my shoulder. "It's okay, Molly." He mumbled. "I forgive you." His words were a little clumsy, and his hand was a little messy, but it was enough to make me want to bawl.

Dad would never touch them.

I knew I'd been right to do what I did at that moment because _Dad would never touch them._ Cal and Ellie would be this sweet for as long as I could preserve it. This was why Nate and I had twisted ourselves into this impossible position—because we had the sweetest siblings on the planet and they deserved everything we could give them. And I could only give them everything if Dad went away.

"Thank you, baby." I murmured, ducking down to press a kiss to his forehead before I hugged him tightly, ducking my head to press my face into his soft hair. God.

"Molly." Nate's voice was low, and I glanced up at him, my eyes too shiny even as I blinked back tears. Nate wasn't looking at me, though; his eyes were on the double doors to the room. I followed his gaze; Albus's Dad, Rose's Dad, and Albus and Fred's uncle Bill were standing in the doorway, in dark suits. I took a shaky breath, smoothing down Cal's messy blond hair, relief coursing through me.

More adults. Real adults. They were here.

Mr. Potter approached a police officer and asked a question quietly; it occurred to me, as I looked at them, that they all looked very official, in their dark suits and trench coats. The officer pointed to Officer Merem and Officer Belitz; Mr. Potter glanced back at Rose's Dad and Louis's Dad and waved them forward, and together, they walked up to the two officers, no smiles among them. A few quiet words were exchanged, and Officer Merem's eyebrows shot up, before he straightened up, glancing over to us, before he looked back to Mr. Potter; this time, he spoke at a normal volume, and I could hear him—Officer Merem's desk was only two away from the one we were seated beside.

"I'm not transferring custody of Roger Gale unless you can stand there and tell me you will be charging him with aggravated assault of a minor along with whatever else you've got him on." Officer Merem said seriously, his gaze a challenge. Mr. Potter raised his eyebrows passively, glancing back at Ron, who was glaring at the man.

"We'll do it." Mr. Weasley muttered. "Bill and I will go get Roger Gale—Harry, take the kids out to the car." Mr. Potter nodded to Rose's father, breaking away from the group and walking towards us. He flashed me a sympathetic smile, and I pressed my lips together.

"Molly, we're all going to head to the Ministry of Magic—my wife is getting your mum, she'll meet us there." Mr. Potter said lowly to me as he stepped up beside me; I carefully helped Cal off my lap, to his feet, and then pushed myself to my feet, my eyes stinging as Cal stepped closer to me the moment I was standing, pressing himself against my legs. Ellie slid off her chair, coming towards me nervously as she stared up at Mr. Potter, but I just put an absent hand on her head, looking at Nate as he straightened up, his gaze serious on me. I glared at him.

"Where are we going?" Nate asked after a moment, glancing at Mr. Potter, then back to me.

"London." I said softly to him. "Mr. Potter's office." Nate stared at me, glancing at Mr. Potter unhappily before he looked down at the twins and exhaled shortly.

"We have to talk." He muttered to me as he reached down, taking Ellie's hand; Ellie grabbed it with both of hers, switching from clinging to me to clinging to Nate. "Not here, not now, because I trust you not to drag the kids that far without reason, but we do." Nate glanced back at me, his eyes angry.

"Yeah." I agreed as I rubbed my eyes. "I know." I glanced up at Mr. Potter after a second, before I looked back down at Cal. "Kid, you've got to let go of my leg if we're going to go outside with Mr. Potter." I said softly; Cal did so, and I smoothed down his hair. "Let's go." I murmured, and I pushed Cal gently in front of me; Mr. Potter stepped in front of him, leading the way out. We weaved between a few desks, and Nate and Ellie followed us out the doors and into the area with the security desk, but Mr. Potter quickly led us past that and in front of the building. He led us around the side, where he turned to us.

"We should disapparate." He pointed out to me, and I bit my lip, looking at Nate. Nate raised his eyebrows.

"The popping thing you and Cory did?" He muttered, and I nodded.

"I'll go first with Cal," I said quietly, then I looked to Mr. Potter. "And you can take Nate and Ellie."

"I can't just let you apparate—" Mr. Potter argued, and I shrugged, pulling Cal closer to me; I disapparated with a pop, Cal and I spinning through a whole mess of colors before we landed. Cal squeaked, turning his face into my blazer, and I hugged him tightly, glancing around; we were standing in the aurors' office, at the apparation point, and I pressed my lips together, pulling Cal with me out of the small apparation area. Mr. Potter, with Nate and Ellie, appeared as we stepped off, Mr. Potter breathless as he glared at me. "You have to stop apparating, you're going to get spliced!" He protested.

"What the f—" Nate began, but I shot him a glare. "What was that?" HE muttered, staring at me.

"Apparation." I muttered, pushing my hair out of my face as I reached out, grabbing Nate's sleeve and pulling him off the apparation point. "You alright?" Nate looked down at Ellie, who he was still holding onto tightly. Ellie shivered, looking up at me, her eyes wide; she was cold. I sighed, releasing Cal and Nate to slide my Hogwarts blazer off; I held it out for her, and Ellie slipped her arms in. She turned back around, waving her arms a little as the sleeves flopped over her hands, and I crouched down in front of her, rolling up the sleeves until I could see her hands.

"Thanks, Molly." She said softly.

"No problem, baby girl." I told her softly, smoothing down her hair.

"If you don't mind, guys," Mr. Potter said lowly to the twins. "I need to talk to Molly and Nate alone—" I glanced up at Mr. Potter, straightening up, my eyes alert, only to realize that Wes Finnigan had stepped up beside Mr. Potter, his gaze serious as he lingered on Nate's wrist and black eye. "Wes is going to watch you for a few minutes, if that's alright."

"Molly—" Nate said tightly to me, and I looked to him.

"I know Wes." I said shortly. "You remember Albus? His brother James is dating Wes's little sister." I looked at Wes tiredly; he looked at me sympathetically. I felt a flare of the old anger in me—I didn't need people's sympathy—and grabbed it, using it to fuel me. "Wes, this is Cal," I said quietly, gesturing to my little brother. "And Ellie," I put my hand on Ellie's shoulder. "They're seven, they don't talk much, and if something happens to them while you're in charge, I'll kill you." My words were brief and serious; Wes nodded. Cal and Ellie looked nervously up at this stranger I was asking them to go with; I glanced at Nate, who exhaled shortly, rolling his eyes.

"Guys, go with Wes." Nate ordered lowly. "Molly and I need to do big kid talk."

"Ugh." Ellie muttered after a second. "You're _always_ doing big kid talk." She pulled away from us, though, and Cal followed after a minute; Wes led them towards an office with the name _POTTER _written on the door on the other side of the room, and I glanced at Nate gratefully before I looked up at Mr. Potter. My boyfriend's father met my gaze evenly.

"Alright." He said quietly. "Follow me." He turned away from Nate and I, and I pushed Nate slightly ahead of me, following my little brother as we followed Mr. Potter between desks to a glass door. We went through it, entering a large room with a massive table in the middle; there were several chairs around the table. "Sit down." He said quietly, and I sat at the head of the table, my gaze sharp on Mr. Potter; Nate sat down to my right. Mr. Potter sat down a few seat down from us on my left, and a thick folder rose out of the table. He quickly flipped it open, revealing at least a hundred pages that had been stuffed in there, as well as several pieces of parchment with handwriting on them. And photos. Several photos. "Now. Guys. Since I know you both in a personal capacity, let me make it clear; what this is, here, is a professional investigation." He looked up at us seriously. "Whatever is said from here on out goes to court. Your dad has done some terrible things and is going to be charged with crimes—"

"All due respect," Nate said quietly, "but cut to the chase already. We're not stupid. Dad's under arrest. And _Molly_ —" He glared at me pointedly for a moment, "told the cops more than they already knew, so he's going to jail. We don't need the _bad people go to jail for a reason_ bit."

"Molly did what?" Mr. Potter asked, leaning forward, his eyebrows shooting up.

"For someone with magic, you don't catch on particularly fast." Nate muttered.

'Shut up, Nathanial." I snapped at my brother, frowning at him; Nate glared at me, sitting back in his chair.

"If you'd shut up, we wouldn't be here." He hissed at me, and the words stung, but I kept my expression emotionless, glaring at my little brother.

"What did Molly do?" Mr. Potter repeated, looking from me to Nate and back to me. I pressed my lips together, barely glancing at him, because this wasn't the way this was supposed to go. But Nate wasn't saying anything and he was just glaring at me—that infuriating, _dare you to repeat it_ glare. The one he was doing because he thought I wouldn't be brave enough to do it again.

But I'd do it a hundred times over if it meant Nate wouldn't go to jail.

"I told." I said harshly, tearing my gaze from my brother to look at Mr. Potter; my eyes stung.

"You told." Mr. Potter echoed, staring at me. "You mean—you told the police? About your dad?" Mr. Potter's expression softened. "That's was really brave, Molly." I closed my eyes, shaking my head slowly, pressing my lips together. I hadn't done it to be brave or because it was the right thing to do or because I hated my father. I'd done it because Nate came first.

"No." Nate said, his voice hoarse. "No it was _stupid_—"

"Nate, shut up." I begged, my eyes snapping open as I looked at my little brother. "Just be quiet, please. This is Al's _father_." Nate's gaze flicked to Mr. Potter and then back to me, that little line between his eyebrows coming up as he frowned at me uncertainly. "I have to live with these people and every word you say—"

"Every word _I _say?" Nate repeated dangerously.

"Oy, stop." Mr. Potter said seriously, looking from me to my brother; Nate's breathing hitched as he glared at me, and I shook my head, turning away from my brother to Mr. Potter, my eyes watering. "We're getting ahead of ourselves." He looked to Nate. "You, Nathanial, were arrested this afternoon for aggravated assault. You got in a fight with your dad at your soccer match." He looked back to me. "Now I know enough about your family at this point to hazard a guess that you didn't do anything wrong." His voice slowed here, and he spoke more cautiously. "But your dad does have a broken nose. So I need to know why you fought before I can officially let you off the hook."

Nate looked at me seriously, his gaze dark, and I met it. We were here at the cross roads again. This cross roads where we either put all our cards on the table or shut up and swallowed everything we knew. I hated this crossroads.

"Ellie's got magic." I admitted softly, and Nate cursed, his hand slamming against the table. I swallowed, looking away from my brother to Mr. Potter. I had to do this, I reminded myself. The kids would be safe. Nate couldn't go to jail. This was the only solution where Nate didn't get a criminal record. "Dad threatened to kick her out. Nate freaked out, because he knows my existence is shaky as is—I'm depending on the Weasleys and I don't have enough money to take care of Cory and myself much less a seven-year-old…" I swallowed, looking at Nate. Nate was staring at me. I held his gaze. I wasn't sorry for doing this. I wouldn't apologize.

"Goddammit Molly—" Nate muttered, ducking his head and running a hand over his hair.

"Alright." Mr. Potter's voice was quiet and calm, and cut through Nate's obvious anger at me. "Thank you." He scribbled something down on a piece of parchment, before he looked back up at us, and his expression hardened a little. "Look, guys, I'm going to be up front with you. We have your muggle social services' files here. Your school records, your medical records, the whole lot." He lifted the file and let it drop to the table lightly. "Almost every teacher you've had has written a letter about your dad. Several anonymous tips have been left with CPS regarding your welfare. Three doctors on four occasions marked down suspicious circumstances. The police should have been at your door years ago." I stared at Mr. Potter, my heart hurting as I listened to this, confusion rippling my mind. How was that possible? We'd never heard from a single social worker. We'd never had a single visit. We'd had concerned teachers, we'd had dozens of worried looks as Dad sat there angrily on parents' visiting day.

We'd never been visited by a social worker.

"How?" Nate's voice was hard. "How is that possible, if we've never heard from CPS? Surely several letters, several calls—that would have warranted some kind of visit—" I looked at Nate, and he was just staring at Mr. Potter.

"I talked to the Ministry of Magic liaison at CPS about it." Mr. Potter said carefully. "Because we all thought the same thing." He looked down at the papers before him, and from where I was sitting, I could see the one on top had the Lerner Prep heading; it was a good distraction from thinking about his use of the term "we all." More than one person had looked at that file. More than one person knew everything. Knew more than I had even told the police. "Ten years ago, Social Services in Nottingham underwent an overhaul—there was a new council election and a new budget with more money was approved, and most of the department was fired and new people hired in an effort to really reach all the kids that needed to be reached." Mr. Potter looked up at me. "Ten years ago, only two days before the massive overhaul, Molly's Year 2 Homeroom teacher reported through Lerner Preparatory Academy that her dad was too aggressive on visit days and Molly had a poorly explained bruise on her arm the day after she got in trouble at school. We have a theory that Molly's file—which would have been then paired with files on Nate and Cormac, because if one child is being abused, all minors in the household are considered at risk, was in the to-be-distributed pile of folders when the overhaul occurred." Mr. Potter exhaled. "Every new worker was assigned an old worker's caseload, the assumption being that every file had been distributed at the time." He tilted his head to the side, looking at us seriously. "Your files were stored away, added to over the years by phone operators receiving calls and paper distributers who didn't realize that no one had looked at your file."

I stared at my boyfriend's father; my eyes were stinging badly, and I knew that it was only a matter of seconds before my tears overflowed, again, but I didn't care. I was going to break down—I felt it coming, and not just the sobbing kind of break down that I so feared because it made me look weak—the kind of breakdown where I thought I was going to throw up and all I wanted to do was kill everyone around me. "Are you seriously sitting there," I began, and the first tears spilled over, "telling us that the reason we're _here," _I leaned forward, my forearms resting on the table, "is because we _fell through the cracks_?" I said after a moment, my voice thick. "You're telling me that—that—" I turned to look at Nate. "We fell through the cracks. We, as a family, all of us together, fell through the cracks—" I barked out a bitter, crazy laugh that wasn't humorous at all. "That is ironic." My words came out choked, twisted, because my head was spinning and _how was this possible_. "Because I have spent years—years and years and years and years—keeping the kids from falling through the cracks. I have made Nate _hate_ me, because I wouldn't let him fall through the cracks—" I pressed my lips together. "This is a _fucking_ joke."

"Our teachers have been writing letters every year?" Nate demanded in a hoarse voice, and I looked over at him. "_Every year_?" He looked to me. "Dad never even touched me until—what—October?" Nate's voice was a croak, now. He was staring at me, horrified. "Molly? How long…?" I shook my head once. I wasn't answering that.

"Mostly Molly's teachers." Mr. Potter acknowledged softly, looking to me; my head spun. Nate glanced at me, and I looked back at him, my gaze teary but hard. "Though we do have four letters from one teacher you had—an…" Mr. Potter looked down at his folder, "Eamon Causer?" I made a sound like a wounded animal, closing my eyes.

"Eamon Causer is my best friend's dad," Nate said hoarsely. "And the man my mother happens to be sleeping with." The irritation in Nate's voice was, oddly, in the distant part of my brain that was still sane, a comfort.

"He's coached all of us at football except Ellie." I murmured, opening my eyes to look at Mr. Potter. "Four letters is a letter for each kid." I shook my head; Mr. Causer had tried. It made my stomach hurt—how hard he had tried to get us out. He'd tried harder than I had. The thought made my throat close, so I swallowed twice, until I could get words out, and then forced them out. "How long have you had that?" I nodded to the folder.

"It took us until Sunday to find it." Mr. Potter admitted quietly. "Because we kept looking for the worker who had your files, except no one did."

"No one did." I repeated blankly, before I looked at Nate, feeling dazed. Nate looked equally out of it; he didn't even look particularly angry anymore. Because this wasn't my fault anymore—they would have had it anyway. They had more than I ever would have admitted to.

"We fell through the cracks." Nate murmured to me. The lump in my throat that had been steadily shrinking exploded again; I felt my tears thicken, and I didn't even stop myself as I pulled my legs up onto my chair, hugging my knees to my chest and pressing my forehead to my knees. I sobbed softly, wrapping my arms around my head, making it dark; my sobs grew in strength, shaking my whole body as I cried into my knees.

Nate and I weren't good at this. We hadn't known what we were doing, we hadn't been fooling anyone. The reason we'd made it this far without Dad being arrested was because our file had never been assigned. Everyone had known, all along. Because this had started ten years ago and ended today and my teachers had known from the very first minute.

We'd fallen through the cracks.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, we emerged from the room, and I'd stopped crying though it was still quite clear that I had been. We stepped into the main area, and I was thankful that most aurors were busy with their own work rather than turning to stare at us, but a few still did; I glared at them immediately, as did Nate.

"Molly!" My mother's voice was tight and concerned, and I turned to look at her, my heart pounding. She was standing with Cal and Ellie, but the moment she laid eyes on Nate and I, she came forward, hugging us both, one arm to each of us. I stiffened under her hug, and as she pulled away, I saw the hurt on her face.

"Hi Mum." I said lowly, pushing my messy hair out of my face.

"I can't believe you got arrested," She breathed, looking to Nate, but she didn't seem angry. "Has that been worked out? Surely they let you go—you're just a child…" She seemed to notice Mr. Potter behind us, then, and she looked at him. "Have you let him go?" She asked expectantly. "And Roger—"

"We let Nathanial go." Mr. Potter said quietly. "Not Roger though, Mrs. Gale." My mother stared wordlessly at Mr. Potter, before her eyes grew too shiny; I looked away tiredly.

"You're not letting Roger go?" She asked in a shaky voice after almost an entire minute of silence. "I don't understand." Mr. Potter stared at my mother, and it occurred to me, as I glanced up at him, that he suddenly looked angry. His famous green eyes were blazing and his cheeks were rapidly turning red.

"Mrs. Gale," He said, his voice low. "I do not understand _you_." He took a deep breath. "You have five children. Your eldest has been taking abuse from your husband for _ten years_." I closed my eyes, ducking my head, and Nate's soft intake of breath was enough to make my head hurt. "Children's Protective Services has letters and calls and notes from the time Molly was six and _not once did you call them_. I do not understand you, and I certainly don't understand how your children are as lovely as they are if you and your husband were the ones charged with raising them." He let out a breath, and I opened my eyes, looking up at Nate; he was staring at Mr. Potter. "But understand me when I say that unless you stand there and tell me you will divorce your husband and get restraining orders against him for all your children, you will lose custody of the remaining three before the end of today."

My mother stared up at my boyfriend's father, before she looked up to me. I met her gaze tiredly, and I saw the corner of her mouth shake. "_I'm sorry_." She breathed to me. I looked away. I heard a rustling of cloth, and when I next looked up, my mother had straightened up, pulling her jacket tighter around her. _Please_, I allowed myself to beg, _please let her say the right thing_. "Tell me how to do those things and I will." She said quietly.

I blinked, staring at my mother.

"You'll divorce Dad?" Nate's voice shook, badly.

My mother looked to Nate, her eyes too bright, but her features were set, now, in a determined way. "I can't keep you both." She said softly. Nate turned to me, his eyes wide, and I glanced up at him. He gulped in a breath of air, once, twice.

"We don't have the money for that," I said softly, looking at Mum. She looked down, smoothing down her skirt.

"Eamon suggested I leave Roger some weeks ago." Mum murmured. "Says he wants to be a proper family." She looked up at me. "Just like you said," Her voice shook a little, her need to please shining through. "I made it like you said. We would have the money then."

I stared at my mother. She'd made it like I'd told her to. She was willing to leave Dad and move in with Mr. Causer.

"Okay." I said, my voice a little higher than usual. I looked up at Mr. Potter, then back to Mum. "Okay—do it. That's—that's perfect, Mum." My voice broke, and I took a breath. I was just staring at her now. "Thank you." I said after a moment. Mum nodded once, and I looked at Nate.

"Mrs. Gale." Mr. Potter said quietly. "Sit down here, please—" He gestured to the seat at the empty desk beside us, "I'll be back over in a moment." He put a hand on Nate's and my shoulders, one hand to each of us and guided us from my mother, away from Cal and Ellie. There was a bench beside a fireplace where he steered us, and I sank down on it the moment we reached it. Nate looked at it hesitantly, sititng down, his gaze flicking back in the direction of our mother, who was hidden in the mess of cubicle dividers. "Okay, guys." He said softly; I looked up at him dazedly. "This is over. Your dad is going to jail. Your mum's leaving him—this Mr. Causer guy obviously cares about you all already if he tried so hard to get social services to do something." He smiled a little. "Things get better from here."

I looked at Nate, my eyes tired. Nate was just staring at me. "Mum agreed to leave Dad." Nate murmured. I nodded. I still had to process that.

I still had to process this whole day.

Something else occurred to me, and I felt something that might have been a smile flick across my face. "I don't have to leave Hogwarts." I murmured, looking down at my skirt, at the grey pleats there.

"I'm more than a little relieved about that." Mr. Potter said quietly; I glanced up at him sharply. He smiled at me. "My son has been in a bit of a panic about that." He explained. I stared at him; Mr. Potter sighed, glancing back at where my mother was sitting. "I've got to go talk to your mum, guys, but stay here, relax for a bit—I'll need to talk to you again before everyone can go home." I nodded absently; Mr. Potter pulled back, turning away from us, and then Nate and I were alone.

We sat in silence for one minute, and then two, both of us staring into the space before us. Dad was going to jail; the auror department knew _everything_. Mum was leaving Dad for Mr. Causer.

Oh my God.

Nate was the first one to break the silence, glancing at me in a way that made me look back at him. "Molly." Nate's voice was low and gravelly; his eyes were too shiny. "You were six?" He asked softly. I exhaled, reaching up to rub my forehead. I'd known that would come.

"That was honestly an accident." I said softly. "I only remember because of how weird all the teachers asked—Dad was making me macaroni and cheese and he dropped the pot of water when he was moving it from the stove to the sink to drain it—he had to grab my arm and pull me onto the counter." I looked up at Nate. "We couldn't tell because I froze the water when it hit the floor, so I didn't have any burns on my feet, so it didn't make sense. Even if Dad had pulled me as fast as he could, I would have been burned. So we had to lie." I shook my head. The first time I'd been reported, Dad had just been trying to help.

Nate nodded, staring at me.

"That's so long." He whispered. "Ten years is—"

"It was worth it." I said softly. Nate fell silent. "If social services had broken us up that early on, Cal and Ellie probably wouldn't even have been born." I shrugged. "It was worth it." Nate was just shaking his head, his eyes firm on me.

"Molly," He said softly. "I don't think it was. Because I ran out of steam in nine months. You somehow lasted—"

"It was." I said shortly, looking away from Nate and staring at the wall of the cubicle closest to us. I felt Nate's gaze burn into my cheeks. "I didn't get abused for ten years, Nate. You lived in that house, you know. Dad got angry when I did magic accidentally. But I swear it wasn't—like that—for ten years. You would have seen that."

"I didn't see it." Nate said softly. "But I'm not sure how much that means. I think you would have hidden it, if you thought it would be better for everyone."

I didn't answer that.

* * *

Two hours later, I flooed back into Hogwarts. Longbottom tried to talk to me but I could barely listen to another person say a single other word—I didn't really understand what was happening anymore. I just walked out of his office, turning towards the Gryffindor Common Room and walking through the mostly empty halls; it was dinner. But I knew Albus and I knew he would have left Quidditch Practice and not had an appetite for dinner. He would definitely be in the Common Room. I took the stairs up carefully, keeping my head down as I passed two seventh years, before I muttered the password to the tower and slipped inside the portrait hole. The Common Room was almost empty, except for the boys and Rose; Liam and Rose and Albus and Fred were sitting on the couches in front of the fire place. Normally I would have reacted to Rose being there, but I was so far from normal at this point that I didn't even give a damn.

Albus's eyes locked with mine, and I swallowed—he looked exhausted, and overwhelmingly relieved as it seemed to register to him that I wasn't hurt. Even so, I crossed to him immediately, not caring that other people were talking to me—I didn't even register Liam's question or Rose's concern, because I was too far gone. I sank onto the couch beside Albus, and his arm slipped around my shoulders as I pulled my legs up to the couch, bending them so my feet were half under me, my knees resting on Al's lap. I let my head lean against Albus's chest; he pressed a kiss to the top of my head.

"Molly?" He murmured into my hair, and I felt the concern coming off Fred, beside me, in waves. "Molly, love, what happened? Liam only was able to give me the barest outlines and they were not promising—"

"It's over." I murmured, and the silence between my friends spoke for itself; Liam, on the couch across from me, frowned at me concernedly.

"What does that mean?" Fred's voice was low.

"It's over." I repeated, my voice low and toneless. "Dad's going to jail. Mum's going to make a nice lovely family with Mr. Causer and she's going to fit the kids into that or else Albus's dad is going to kill her. Cormac and I will continue living with Fred's parents until I see the restraining order against Dad for him myself." I looked to Fred.

"Liam said Nate got arrested." Albus's voice was soft in my hair.

"Yeah." I said passively, looking down. Albus rubbed my back and I pressed my lips together, turning my head so my face was pressed into his chest; Al ran a hand through my hair. "I got him off though."

"You can't just get someone off an arrest." Liam said quietly across from us. I turned my head a little, peeking out at Liam. I was tired.

"I told the police everything about my dad." I said softly; Al inhaled sharply, his chest rising quickly, and I hid my face in his chest again. No one said anything else.

Was there anything else to say?


	29. Let's Kill Tonight

Let's Kill Tonight

_May your feet serve you well  
And the rest be sent to Hell  
Where they always have belonged  
Cold hearts, colder songs  
They will play us out  
With a song of pure romance  
Stomp your feet and clap your hands  
Let's kill tonight!  
-Panic! At the Disco_

The next morning, I woke up in my own bed, though I didn't remember getting here. Rose was gone, and looking at the clock, I understood why; it was already eleven. I exhaled as I pushed myself up, pressing my hand to my forehead before I let it slide over my hair. I exhaled as I looked at my bedside table; my mirror, the one that Nate had the other one of, was sitting there. I swallowed.

Everything had changed.

I laid back down in my bed, staring up at the canopy of my bed. This was all different. Mom was going to take care of the kids, move in with Mr. Causer for them. Cory and I were still living with Fred, but I could go home for holidays. We could pretend to be normal—that was what Cormac had told me, last night, when I talked to him. _We can be normal with them_. I wasn't sure whether I thought it was worse that Cormac knew that things had gotten so bad, or that Cormac _didn't want to go back to Mum_.

I swallowed past that thought, focusing on the only thing I could: one day, I'd wake up and my first thought wouldn't be about whether Cal and Nate and Ellie were okay. And that day was miles closer than it had been yesterday.

But Dad was going to jail. And I had to go to a trial, in front of the Wizengamot, and detail to strangers how my family was fucked up. Mr. Potter had warned me that I may have to detail a few of the incidents in my social services file. Just to prove my credibility.

This dangerous swerve towards self-pity propelled me back up, and I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, reaching up to let my hair down from the messy ponytail that had lost most of my hair over night. I swallowed, then forced myself properly up and towards the bathroom. I had to shower.

Twenty minutes later, I stepped from the stairs into the Common Room, my magically dried hair in a loose braid. In a heartbeat, I found Fred, and Liam. It only took half a moment's of my presence for Fred to register that I was standing there; he sat up straight, looking up from his game of exploding snap with Liam. I walked over to them, crossing my arms across my dress, my eyes dark on the boys.

"Mollilicious has made an appearance." Fred noted, flashing me a grin as he patted the table couch beside him, motioning for me to sit down.

"Where's Albus?" I murmured, frowning.

"I'm glad to know how much you value my presence here." Liam said not looking up from his exploding snap cards. "Go, Fred. It's your turn."

"I feel unloved." Fred whined, frowning sadly at me.

"Tell me where my boyfriend is." I repeated. Fred raised an eyebrow, and I exhaled, glaring at him. Fred finally sighed.

"Your phoenix-feathered friend is talking to the elder Mr. Potter. I believe his name starts with a J…" He looked to Liam. "Perhaps Jeffrey? Jehovah? Janek?" He paused, waiting for Liam to jump in, and Liam frowned at him.

"Are you expecting me to be your partner in this?" He asked irritatedly. "Because I apologize if I've ever given you the idea that I am the sort of person who would enjoy that." I snorted in laughter, fondness for the boys swamping me. Fred and Liam were still here, still them. Fred still made a joke of everything, and Liam was still cranky.

"Wait." I said after a moment, glancing back at Fred tiredly. "Why is Albus phoenix-feathered?" Fred hesitated for a moment, and I felt my eyebrows shoot up in surprise; had Fred ever _hesitated _before?

"The patronus Albus sent to his dad yesterday was a phoenix even though it was an elk before Christmas break." Liam supplied after a moment, his voice low; I glanced at him sharply, and Liam just met my gaze with slightly narrowed eyes. "What's your patronus, Molly?" He asked with a slightly mocking tone. I glared at him, ignoring the futile feeling of panic in my chest; had Albus's patronus changed for me? That was—bad, I thought, maybe. I didn't really know. I glanced back to Fred, a headache already starting just behind my eyes.

"Where are they talking?" I asked after a beat.

"Sixth year boys' dorm." Fred muttered. "But perhaps you could leave them be, Miss Molly, because Albus is Mr. Frownyface this morning and Janek is talking to him about it…" I rolled my eyes at James's new name, turning away from Fred and beelining for the steps, ignoring whatever Liam snapped in my wake. I took the steps up quickly, two at a time, until I was standing in front of the dormitory I'd last been in when I was still dating Rory. I opened and closed my fist, taking a shaky breath before I just reached out, turning the doorknob and pushing my shoulder against the door, then paused in the doorway.

Albus was sitting on James's trunk—distinguishable because the Potter coat of arms was painted on the end—with his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him, his head ducked. James was crouching in front of him, looking for all the world like a big brother taking care of his little brother. I pressed my lips together; these were roles that I had never seen the Potter boys play.

"Hey." I said softly; when James didn't snap something at me immediately, I frowned, stepping forward after a moment, crossing tentatively to the trunk. "What's wrong?" I asked quietly; I was glad that everyone else was out of the dormitory. James glared at me, but said nothing when Albus just glanced up at me; the intensity of my boyfriend's green eyes frightened me. "Al?" I asked after a moment, letting an inch of concern into my voice as I sank down beside him on the trunk, closer, now, I could see there were crumpled papers in his hands. I swallowed, glancing at James. James's glare had slipped away, replaced by a searching expression. What was going on?

"You told me that it started in August." Albus's voice was rough and angrier than I'd ever heard it; it grated against the silence so badly that my heart sped up as my head snapped to look at him.

_It started in August._ The anger and helplessness on Albus's face made a hollow feeling open up in my stomach area—August 18th, Cormac had gotten his letter, and moments later, I was stumbling, crying, into the inn where Albus was staying, because I hadn't known where else to go. August, when Albus had found out Dad hurt me. August, when I'd told Albus that it had never happened before.

Cold swamped me, and I suppressed the urge to shiver, sliding over an inch, away from Albus as I turned my deadened gaze forward. More people knew. More and more until everyone knew. If this was how Albus reacted, imagine strangers. "Your dad wrote you?" I asked hoarsely after a moment, the only thing I could think of to say. Albus shook his head.

"Got a notice from the Wizengamot." He told me in a low voice, speaking very slowly, deliberately. "The trial is on Wednesday." His Adam's Apple bobbed. "I am going to go testify against your dad because there are only a few events that there are witnesses for, even though this has been going on for a while." A scary, bitter smile flitted over his lips, making me, for a moment, understand why my own angry smiles made people frightened. "A while." He repeated, humorlessly smiling, still. Then, suddenly and frighteningly, the smile dropped. "Ten years." Albus muttered hoarsely, dropping the letter, and it wafted down to the ground, it's crumpled self landing between his feet. He ducked his head farther down, pressing the heels of his hands into his forehead; I felt my eyes sting as I crossed my arms defensively against my chest. "Ten fucking—" He was choking on the words, so he tried to plow on, his voice still tight, "why not just—tell—Rose? Rose was there, and I know she is one screwy human being but she—" Albus's voice choked off once more, and he shook his head. James put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it, and I glanced away, unsure of what to say. I wanted to make him understand that ten years made it sound worse than it was, but saying that would just bring him back to that frustrated, resigned-to-panic mode that Al so often fell into, when I was around. I couldn't fix this.

Finally, I found words. "Nate didn't even know." I murmured after a second. "It's not like I went around injured, for ten years, and no one noticed. It was so rare that Nate—who _lived_ with me—did not know." I swallowed. "I mean, our teachers did." I mumbled, looking down at my hands. "But Natey didn't."

"Stop it." Albus snapped. "Stop." He turned to me, his eyes wide and angry. I just stared at him balefully. I wanted to make this better.

"I wanted it this way." I said lowly. I would not apologize—I had not done anything wrong—but Albus had to stop looking at me this way. It was making my stomach and throat hurt. Guilt swirled in my brain, making everything cloudy.

Albus stared at me in disbelief, his mouth slightly open, his chest rising and falling rapidly with every breath. "Molly." He said painfully, and I swallowed, holding his gaze.

"I told you I had a plan." I murmured. "And I was the only one who got hurt for nine years. So it worked out pretty damned well, I'd say."

At this, James hung his head, closing his eyes as he sat back on the ground, so his knees were pulled up against his chest. Albus was paying no attention to his brother, though; he had simply inhaled sharply at my words, his eyes hazy with confusion. "Molly." He repeated my name, pleading with me. "I _love_ you." He spoke slowly, as if I were stupid, his eyes wide. "What the fuck do you think _happens_ to me if you get _hurt_?" He paused, letting that question sink in. "I lose my bloody _mind_, that's what. You getting hurt is a goddamned _terrible_ plan. Who does that help? Nate, who is probably torturing himself over every bruise you ever excused to him? How about Cal and Ellie? How did it help them? And Cormac? He wants to protect you to _me_. I couldn't hurt you if I _tried_." Albus stared at me. "I give a damn what happens to you, Molly. I will _always_ give a damn. So stop doing this to yourself because everything that hurts you makes me go _crazy_." His voice dropped. "I'm losing my mind worrying about you, like this. Please. Stop."

I closed my eyes, turning my face from Albus though I could feel his green gaze on my cheek. "There's no one left to hurt me." I told him lowly. "Dad's going to jail, and I wouldn't stop that because _Nate_ going to jail is the alternative." I opened my eyes, willing my face to stay blank as I stared at the cobbled floor. "I'm safe, Al." My voice shook a little.

Al didn't say another word, but the tension left his body as he took a breath so deep that I could hear it. James Potter glanced up to frown at me, and I just met his gaze evenly; if he was bitchy to me now, I swore, I was not responsible for whatever I did. He said nothing, though, and I felt an unpleasantness sweep me; even James was laying off, today. That was how bad this was.

_But it's almost better._ I reminded myself. We were close to the end here. The trial was in a few days. We were _so close_. For the first time, I allowed myself to think the words I'd so feared would jinx us: _we can pull through this_. Even if Albus was worried, even if Dad was in jail, even if Nate and I carried these memories around in our nightmares every day for the rest of our lives. There would be no new memories of my father. No new terror. Things were going to be good, soon.

We were almost there.

"Let's go downstairs." I murmured, pushing myself up, glancing back at Albus with an tired but real half-a-smile. I offered him my hand, and Al took it immediately, standing up with his worried gaze on my face. The moment he was on his feet, balanced, he pulled me flush against him, and I looked up at him, cocking an eyebrow as his hand dropped mine to slip his arms around my waist; I slipped my hands up to rest on his chest.

"You'll tell me if anyone hurts you again." Al murmured, a statement where it was really a question. I smiled a little, looking down to his chest; he was wearing a shirt with a pocket on his upper chest. I moved one of my hands carefully over it, tracing the edge of it with my index finger slowly.

"I won't have to tell you." I kept my voice soft. "Because you'll be there and cursing the idiot into next week long before I get a word out." I glanced up at him, hazarding a smile. Albus nodded, no smile present, but his eyes seemed to lighten.

"Before you two start snogging," James began acidly, "I would suggest a move to your own dormitory." I exhaled shortly, closing my eyes as I dropped my forehead against Albus's chest, a blush flooding up my neck to cheeks; Al's head snapped to glare at his brother. "There will be no hooking up in my bed. That's just—no. I'll have to burn the sheets."

"I will kill you one day." Albus muttered.

"I could take you." James snorted, and I exhaled, looking up to James as I pulled away from Albus, my wand in my hand and at James's chest in a breath. "How the hell—" He began.

"_Langlock_." I shot out. James's mouth snapped shut, and I felt a self-satisfied grin flash on my face as I slipped my wand back into my pocket. "Let's get some food, Al." I said, pulling back from my boyfriend's brother; Albus's hand found mine again as James's eyes seemed to alight, he was so angry. I turned away, pulling Al after me as I led the way to the door, and Albus caught me around the waist once there, turning me around and pressing his lips to mine. James couldn't say a word.

Things would get better.

* * *

"If it isn't my favorite sister." Nate's voice was dry as I slipped into Mr. Potter's office that afternoon. Nate had a black eye, as predicted from yesterday, but it wasn't half bad, just light purples and greens, rather than the full-out swollen mess I'd worried about. Cormac followed me in, his gaze sharp as he looked at the desk that was at the center of the room; Mr. Potter was sitting behind it, with Fred's dad leaning on the edge, his arm around his wife's waist. Mum was standing beside them, clearly uncomfortable, her hand tight in Mr. Causer's. His presence made me pause; he was ashen white, his eyes wide on everyone. He'd only just found out about my magic, I realized.

"Cory!" My mum said, smiling at my brother, and Cormac, instinctively, edged closer to me, his gaze flicking up to my face; Mum winced, and I looked down at Cory. I wasn't going to make him go to her.

"Hi Mum." He said after a moment, looking to Mr. Causer. He frowned at his old coach, and didn't say anything; I sighed. Mum had cheated on Dad with Mr. Causer. Even if Dad was a jackass. This was not his place.

"Nice to see you too, kiddo." Nate said sarcastically, pushing himself up; Cormac flew at our older brother, hugging him tightly, and Nate caught him, laughing a little, flashing me a grin. I grinned back at him, but I felt the unease in the room.

Cormac was not happy to see our mother.

I tried to push past that, glancing at my mother. "Hey Mum." I said, smiling at her; she smiled shakily back. "The twins are…"

"With Will." Mum said, and I blinked at her. Will?

"Who?" I asked after a moment, trying for a smile.

"Will—Fitzgerald?" She tried uncertainly. "He's tall, he's somehow related to someone you know—" She shook her head helplessly. "He's got blondish hair…?"

"Wes Finnigan." Nate corrected after a moment, his voice low, his arms still around Cormac, and I glanced at him, wondering if my concern showed on my face and hoping it didn't. Mum didn't know the name of the man she'd left her seven-year-old twins with. I reached up, rubbing my face tiredly, wincing.

"It's lovely to see you, Molly, Cormac." Mr. Causer's voice was soft but firmer than my mother's. I glanced up at him, smiling uncertainly.

"Nice to see you too." I murmured, feeling awkward and looking to Fred's parents; I felt the urge to hug Mrs. Weasley, and resisted. If I hugged her, I had to hug my mother. I did not want to hug my mother.

Mrs. Weasley did not require prompting for hugs, though; a moment later, she came forward, her arms slipping around me easily, and she hugged me for only a moment, respecting the fact that I _really hated_ people touching me unless it was demanded. "How are you, sweetheart?" Mrs. Weasley asked, coming forward; she smoothed down my hair maternally, studying my face. "Did you sleep at all, last night?" I shrugged, willing myself not to glance at my mother. She sighed. "You should really ask Poppy for some Dreamless Sleep Potion for tonight…" She shook her head, then pulled away, looking to Cormac, who had pulled away from Nate's hug but was still hanging close by, Nate's hand resting on his head. "Hi Cory." She said with a smile.

"Hi Mrs. Weasley." His voice was distinguishably brighter than it'd been to Mum; he leaned around Nate to look at Mr. Weasley, smiling uncertainly but hopefully to my best friend's dad. "Hi." He said.

"Hey kid." Mr. Weasley said, grinning at my brother. "You've gotten miles taller than you were at Christmas." Cormac grinned properly, and I raised my eyebrows, exchanging yet another tired look with Nate. Cormac was being deliberately mean to Mum.

"Let's sit." Mr. Potter suggested, and I nodded, moving quickly to Cory and Nate; Nate and I sandwiched Cormac on the small couch before the desk, while Mum sat down beside Mr. Causer on a small couch diagonal to ours; the Weasleys remained standing. "We are meeting this morning to discuss a few matters, but let's start out with the question of who gets custody of whom."

Nate and I straightened up immediately at this, as did Mum. "I thought we settled this last night." Nate murmured. "We stay with Mum—the Weasleys keep Cormac and Molly."

Mr. Potter nodded, looking to Nate, then to my mother, and I saw him wince. "We are removing Nathanial, Elena and Callum Gale from Niamh Gale's custody." He said quietly.

"Are you fucking with me?" Nate's voice was a hiss, as he leaned forward; I did not miss the shock on the adults' faces, and I felt a flare of anger for them. What did they expect, when they sprang stuff like this on us?

"Nate." I murmured, and my brother glanced at me sharply.

"I'm not seven, Molly. I'm not going to have custody of me shifted around like I'm a child—" Nate shot at me; I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Give me ten seconds to fix this before you go off, won't you?" I muttered.

"Oh, you're fixing it." Nate murmured, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "That means everything's _fine_. That's totally why we're sitting here with your—"

"Nathanial, _stop_." I snapped angrily, and my brother fell silent, his nostrils flaring as he looked away, working his jaw. I exhaled, looking back up to the adults, ignoring the pity that was clearly playing over the Weasleys' faces. Goddammit, couldn't these people just let the chips fall where they may? My family had been in crisis mode for _months_ and they couldn't just let things _settle_ before the fucked us up again? "You can't just remove children from a parent's custody without reason."

"Sweetheart," Mum said tentatively, and I glanced at her sharply. She was staring at me, teary-eyed. I felt the fight leave me, a chilled sensation ghosting over the back of my neck. Cormac, beside me, shifted unhappily, leaning forward to look at our mother.

"Cormac." I murmured. "Go outside."

"What?" He asked. "This is—"

"_Outside, Cormac_." I said powerfully, turning back to him, my eyes blazing. Cormac stared at me, then exhaled shortly, glaring, now. He pushed himself up, and Nate clapped him on the back; we watched him go, and I waited until the door shut behind him to look back to my mother. "You know about this." I said slowly, my voice dark.

"Augusta Longbottom has agreed to take custody of all five of you, or just Nathanial and Callum and Elena—however you would all be most comfortable." Mr. Potter's voice was low and sad. I did not look at him. I did not give a fuck about our comfort, or about that plan. My mother did not look hurt. She just looked apologetic. _She was throwing in the towel already_.

"Mum." My voice was still dark and angry, because my last chance here was to scare my mother into stopping this. "What the _fuck_ is going on?"

"Sweetheart—" She began in a voice that told me she was about to make some terrible excuse, one that would make me angrier still, and I shook my head immediately.

"Shut up." I hissed at her; Mr. Causer glared at me.

"Don't tell your mother to shut up—" he said, frowning disapprovingly at me.

I felt my scary smile, the one that only appeared when I was angry and bitter and out of options. And I was all of those things. And here was Mr. Causer, trying to tell me I couldn't do things. "She's giving up goddamned custody of her three remaining children and I don't get to tell her to shut up?" I murmured, my voice low.

"I tried—" Mum attempted to get out, her voice thick, and I felt a wave of anger overtake me.

"You tried?" I asked, the scary smile still there. Mrs. Weasley's sad gaze was on my face; I could not look at her, and lose my anger to sadness. "Took you a night to decide you couldn't do this? Weird—I lasted ten years and I only threw in the towel because I had to choose between my brother and my father." I stared at her. "So do me a favor and _try_ again. Give me a better word. Any word. Just. Not. _Tried_."

"I can't do this." Mum's voice was low.

"_Why the fuck would you agree to, then_?" I exploded at her.

"Molly—" Nate's voice was low now, and I pulled back, turning slowly to look at him. His eyes were dark, but not angry. Just tired. Poor Nate. He shook his head. "Let her." He murmured. I swallowed my retort. Nate didn't say anything else, and I studied his face for a moment before I fell silent, looking back to my mother. She was watching me, and I did not allow myself to curse, or yell. Instead, I just shook my head, the scary smile returning as I looked down at the carpet. This was not the time or place to yell at my mother. Nate was having a rougher day than me, right now. He got to call this shot.

"Alright." I said quietly, inhaling deeply. "Alright." I swallowed, looking up at Mr. Potter, my eyes hazy. Even though Mr. Potter looked so much like his son, their facial expressions were so different that to me, who knew Albus so well, the resemblance was lost. "I will get back to—that—later." I exhaled. "Augusta Longbottom?" My voice was low and tight.

"Augusta Longbottom." Mr. Potter agreed quietly.

"Who?" Nate muttered irritatedly.

"She is sure she is willing to take us?" I demanded, ignoring Nathanial. "Because I'm not dragging Nate and Cal and Ellie and Cormac through this if she is not sure she has room and patience for everyone."

Mrs. Weasley responded, now, her expression serious. "She has a lovely estate outside of London. Enough space for all five of you." She smiled at me, coming forward and sitting down delicately on the coffee table in front of me, her arms crossed in front of her chest as she leveled her gaze with mine. "I love having you stay with us, sweetheart," She murmured, "but I would more than understand if you wanted to stay with your siblings." Her smile was tight, apologetic; she was sorry it had come to this. I was, too. "And if you decide one thing today and change your mind next week, or next month, or next year, that's okay too. We don't want to make today harder than it already is."

"Tell me what's going on." Nate's voice was low; I glanced at him.

"When Dad ditched when I was eleven." I muttered, feeling my cheeks heat up; I felt the adults looking at me apologetically. "She was who I stayed with. She's my head of house's grandmother—" I ran a hand over my hair. "She's good, Nate." My voice was tight; I glanced sharply at Mrs. Weasley, who was still sitting just a little away from me. "She knows Nate and Cal are muggles?"

"There is a school near her home, it's apparently very good." Mrs. Weasley told me softly; I winced, looking to Nate, who shrugged. I swallowed, taking a deep breath. We could live with the kids again—Nate could relax, if I were there, because I could take care of the twins and he could just…be fifteen.

"Alright." I murmured, looking back to Mrs. Weasley, then letting my gaze flick to Mr. Potter. "We'll do it." I paused, my head spinning. "But. I get automatic custody of Nate in November—we'll live with Mrs. Longbottom still, or figure whatever out, but I will be his legal guardian." I conditioned after a beat; Nate, beside me, relaxed. "And if I ever want custody of Cal and Ellie and Cory, then I get it, no questions asked." I swallowed.

"Done." Mr. Potter agreed quietly. I exhaled, nodding and ducking my head, running my hands over my hair and locking them at the back of my neck. Here came the hard part—the really hard part, the one that made me stomach hurt because even though I was angrier than I had ever been with my mother, I did not want to do this.

"There are conditions for Mum, too." I murmured, glancing up then pushed myself to my feet. Mrs. Weasley watched me as I crossed to my mother, studying her for a moment before I forced my expression to harden, my eyes becoming icy.

"You will not ever contest custody." I murmured, my voice quiet and low, but more threatening that I'd ever heard myself; Mum stared up at me, her eyes wide and too shiny, but I did not give a damn that I was making her sad. "You will _not ever_ contact Cormac, Ellie, Cal, Nate, or myself. I do not care if it is a birthday or Christmas or whatever fucking excuse you can come up with. No contact." My gaze flicked to Mr. Causer. "If you get married, go find a new family and have them attend; hire fucking actors, for all I care. Do not write to us." Mum blinked tearfully up at me, and my anger overwhelmed my senses. "You will have _no more _children." I brought my voice to a hiss from it's quiet anger; I was too frustrated to stay calm. I was damned tired of this. She would stop fucking with our lives.

I glanced to Mr. Causer appraisingly, my eyes narrowed. I had to be more controlled with Mr. Causer. "Don't have children with her. Do it for yourself—you do not want to be bound to this woman via a real, flesh and blood child—or do it for the kid—she is a _terrible _mother—or do it because you don't want Finn to end up like Nate and me." I shook my head. "I _do_ _not_ _care_." I took a deep breath. "But have children with her and I swear, I will show up and take custody of that kid and then _smack you both_." I exhaled, and my mother hiccupped a sob. A prickly cold feeing swamped me. "Do you understand?"

Silence stretched. "You really wouldn't come to your own mother's wedding?" Mr. Causer's voice was low. I swallowed, looking up to the ceiling and considering his question. Finally, I looked down at him.

"You wrote four letters to social services in an effort to get us removed from my father's custody." I murmured; he kept level with my gaze. "You know that I had a bad time in that house." I pursed my lips. "I will not allow Cormac, Ellie and Cal to be damaged the same way Nate and I have." My voice was low. "That can only be made sure of if they are nowhere near her." _I'm sorry_. Those were the words I wanted to say so badly—but I couldn't, because the only person I was sorry to was Mr. Causer. I felt bad that my mother had dragged him kicking and screaming into this.

But he was here, and I still had to pull the kids free of this disaster.

"What about your mother?" Mr. Causer's voice was low as he pushed himself up from the couch; I held my ground, ignoring the instinct to step back. "What about the damage done to her if she never sees her children again?"

The anger that had made me see red at my mother a few moments ago returned, full-throttle, and my glance flicked to Nate, a reflex. My brother read my face for a moment before he pushed himself up, stretching his arms above his head, his eyes sharpening on Mr. Causer; our old coach glanced at him, and, probably subconsciously, backed up a step from me.

"She has _ten years of damage_ to Nate and me." I murmured, my voice cold and low; I thought Mr. and Mrs. Weasley stopped breathing, it got so quiet. "So excuse me for not giving a shit that my mother might miss the children she's trying to give up."

Mr. Causer's face softened. "I know you do care though, Molly." Mr. Causer's voice was gentle; I felt my jaw spasm, and I held his gaze angrily. "I know you still love your mother and I know you still want her to be happy after all of this." I looked away. "Do what's right, sweetheart," I took a tense breath, "just because your mother doesn't always know the right thing to do does not mean she doesn't love you or deserve to see you."

"What's right?" I repeated the phrase, my stomach churning angrily.

Mr. Causer misread my repetition, assuming I was caving; from the slightly frantic way that Nate's gaze flew from me to Mum to Mr. Causer, I knew that he knew that I was about to lose it. "The right thing here is to let your mother still be a _mother_—don't take that away from her." Mr. Causer's voice was low.

"Mr. Causer—" Nate began, stepping forward; Mr. Causer glanced at him with a frown.

"I shouldn't take that away from _her_?" I repeated, my voice still dangerous; Mr. Causer's attention refocused on me.

"Just because she cannot be a good mother _now_ doesn't mean that in a few months, when everyone's feeling better, she shouldn't be able to try for custody of you all—"

"Stop." My voice was steely; silence fell. "Mr. Causer, I think you're a nice guy." The words slipped past my lips, my voice soft and careful, and angry as _hell._ "So I do not want to be rude. But if I have to repeat this again, I will blow a fucking fuse, so listen carefully when I tell you—I have let my mother say nothing for the last ten years. I will actively protest any charges relating to my dad's activities. I will let her _walk away _from her children." I stared at him. "But I will never want her to be happy. I am not a fucking angel. I am not turning the other cheek. I want her to feel as _completely _fucked over as I do. I want her to wait ten years to have her dad arrested only to have her mum walk away the next day, because the children she _willingly _had, are too fucking _stressful _for her." I stared at him. "I do love my mother. But it is taking every ounce of self-control I have not to leap at her with my wand right now." I took a very deliberate, deep breath. "So stop contradicting me, because every time you ask me one of those _dumbass_ questions that I'm supposed to have some huge emotional response to, I come a little closer to pulling my wand on you as well, and you _do not want that_."

Mr. Causer had gone ashen at some point during my speech; only two moments later, he sank down on the couch beside my mother. Mum grabbed his hand in two of hers, looking up at me, her eyes blazing. "Don't threaten us!" She protested. "Molly—"

I swallowed, staring at her as her voice dropped off; Mum glared at me. "You have officially defended Mr. Causer more than you _ever _defended me." I murmured, my voice rough; Mum's glare crumbled, and I looked up, my gaze hooded, to my brother. Nate met my gaze tiredly, and I ducked my head, pushing past the couch, and Mr. Weasley; Nate crossed to the door ahead of me, opening it for me, and halfway out the door, my mother sobbed as I passed the door to Mr. Potter's office.

And I lost control.

The glass on the door shattered violently, as if from an explosion, and Nate yelled, jumping back; I slammed my eyes shut as glass shards flew out from the door. Nate grabbed the back of my shirt and tugged me back; we a half step back as I cursed, feeling a stinging on the arm and side of my face and neck that had been facing the door. "Fuck it." I muttered, wincing as I looked down at my arm; a bunch of scratches, but no serious cuts. I felt a hot blush climb my face; I'd lost control. Dammit.

"Oh, shit." Nate muttered, and I felt his hand brush my shoulder; I glanced there to see more scratches there. "You're all cut up." He muttered, pulling back with a frown. I pulled away from him, and the rest of the room, turning back towards the door and pushing outside. Cormac was already standing just outside the door but I passed him without a word.

"Molly—" Cormac started out, but I ignored him; I heard Nate's footsteps a moment later, hurried and loud as he followed me.

"What the hell—" Nate demanded, and I ignored him. My ears were rushing and my stomach was going to rebel soon even though I'd not had any proper food at lunch. I shoved out of the auror department's mainroom, into the hallway, and down the hall. Nate emerged into the hallway just in time to see me disappear into the ladies' room; the door slammed shut behind me as my brother appeared in the doorway, looking both outraged and scared.

I just turned to look at myself in the mirror. Aside from the several cuts on my face and my arm, I looked like a nightmare. My eyes were huge and empty, the circles beneath them legendary; my hair had shards of glass caught in it and my skin tone was sallower than it had been this morning. I was a fucking mess.

"MOLLY!" Nate protested angrily from outside the girls' room door; a witch came out from one of the stalls, rifling through her purse for something, before Nate pounded on the door, and she glanced up, startled, before looking to me. "Don't hide in the _girls' _room! That's _cheating_!"

"Are you alright?" The woman asked me after a moment, frowning a little at me; she was probably in her early twenties, just old enough to have a maternal overtone to her voice. "What happened to your face, honey?" She came forward, then frowned suspiciously at the door. "Did he do this to you?"

"No, no—" I shook my head, feeling absurd; I was being asked if _Nate_ of all people was abusing me. "'M fine." She nodded suspiciously, and Nate inched the door open, peeking a fraction of his face through the door as if he expected to find someone changing or something. The woman made a high-pitched _hmph_ noise and bustled up to the door; Nate leapt back. She pushed past him with a suspicious glance, and Nate shifted uncomfortably, ducking into the room and slamming the door shut behind him, pressing his back against the door. His face was scarlet, and I felt a corner of my mouth twitch; Nate cursed like a sailor, but following his sister in the girls' room was a moral debacle.

Nate didn't seem to see the humor in it. "What the fuck are you _doing_?" He demanded. I said nothing, turning from Nate to the sinks. I turned on one of the faucets, running one of the cuts on my hand under the water. "Molly, for the love of God." Nate muttered after a moment. "What the fuck is wrong?"

"Mum just jumped ship." I said lowly, looking up sharply in the mirror to meet Nate's gaze there. Nate nodded once, looking decidedly caught off-guard.

"And Dad got arrested yesterday." Nate muttered. "So fucking what?" I swallowed, looking back down at my arm. _So fucking what? _That was something I would have said a few months ago. That was what I should have been saying now. My parents had been screwed up from the get-go. My dad was an asshole. My mum couldn't be relied on to provide dinner, much less emotional support. "Are you _upset _with Mum?" Nate's voice was low with disbelief; I gritted my teeth, glaring down at my arm as I pumped some handsoap into my hand and rubbed it over the cuts on my hands, painful but necessary.

"I'm not upset with her." I muttered after a moment.

"Yeah, you are." Nate muttered, still tainted with that incredulity. He couldn't believe I'd had enough faith in Mum to feel betrayed now that we were here. "Oh, fuck it. Molly. Mum's—"

"I know." I said harshly, glaring down at my arm still.

"She can't do this, Molly. It sounds like Mrs. Longbottom can." Nate's voice was soft, and self-disgust curled in my stomach. Now Nate had to take care of _me_ too. "She never—"

"Mum was never cut out for children, I know." I snapped. "I'm her kid too, Nate." I splashed some water up my arm, then started to rub those too with soap; I tried not to cringe. Nate didn't say anything, and I let him stew for a moment or two. I felt oddly defensive; Nate was being obnoxious. He looked and sounded _sad_—I didn't know what to do with _sad _Nate.

"You got softer at Hogwarts." He murmured. I exhaled, stopping my cleaning of my cuts to brace myself against the countertop, closing my eyes as I dropped my head. "You _care_. You're angry with Mum for abandoning _you_—not just Cal and Ellie and Cory and me." He wasn't accusatory—certainly not half as accusatory as I'd been with myself, making the prediction, months ago, that when things finally went to hell, I'd break. "You're angry because you _believed_ in Mum. You really thought she'd come through for us, and she didn't—"

"I get it." I hissed, turning back to him. "I got softer. I lost the part of me that made me able to handle this." I shook my head. "I _told_ Al and Fred this would happen. I _told them_—" I glanced away. "I didn't want to date Albus or hang out with Fred or live with Rose or Fred _because I knew this would happen_." I winced. "I almost dumped Albus but I didn't and _look at this_. I actually believed—" I glanced back to my brother wildly, "I _trusted _that Mum would do this for a solid day, Nate! Twenty hours there, I thought this would _work_!" I snorted humorlessly. "I'm so—"

"Are you insane?" Nate muttered, coming forward from the door, running an irritated hand over his hair. I blinked, then glared.

"I've been _taking care of you freaks_ for the last few years so I damned well _hope not_." I hissed at Nate.

"You would have dumped Albus for us?" He asked lowly.

"You dumped Sarah for us—what's the difference?" I demanded, frowning at him.

Nate frowned at me; he was so out of his element, here. "You're comparing you and Al and me and Sarah?" He asked, perplexed. "I didn't love Sarah. You love Albus."

I stared at my brother. "That's not the point." I told him lowly; Nate shook his head.

"It's _exactly _the point. You two are—" Nate cut himself off to begin again, "you have a _future_ with him. You have become involved with this family—his brother and his brother's girlfriend and his parents—in a way you never did with any other of your Hogwarts' friends." He cut himself off, running a hand through his hair. "But this isn't about him, Molls." He murmured. "It's about the fact that you don't have to give up everything that makes you happy to somehow fix this family. Then you'll be miserable and we'll fall apart. For real." His eyes were dark. "And that helps no one."

I swallowed, staring at Nate. Nate was offering me, here, a chance: I got to avoid blaming myself, here. Because if I fell apart—which I undoubtedly would, should I dump Albus, even if it was just for a bit—my family would be shot to hell. And no one wanted that. "Thank you." I murmured, my voice low. That was all I said, and Nate shrugged both shoulders uncomfortably.

"You're a really good sister." He told me after a moment, quietly. "In sixteen years, this is the first time I've had to smack you into remembering that everything stops if you do." I snorted, turning back to the mirror. I exhaled; my face was still scratched up, my arm too.

"Fifteen." I corrected quietly. "You're only _fifteen_. You've only known me fifteen years." I glanced at my brother in the mirror, and Nate frowned, but said nothing. I smiled a little, looking down at my arm. Despite my cuts, even from the glance in the mirror, I could tell that I looked better, that Nate looked better. There was a little color in my face and Nate's eyes were brighter.

The Gales were back.

* * *

"Ellie, do not touch that." I instructed, no question in my voice as my little sister hovered beside Mr. Potter's desk, her hand hovering above a piece of parchment. It looked harmless enough, but I had enough experience with the Wizarding World to know to be wary.

"Can I touch it?" Cal demanded, delighted that I hadn't included his name as he leapt forward; I shook my head, and he frowned.

We were sitting in Mr. Potter's office, per instructions from the adults; Mum was gone, now, and Mrs. Longbottom was signing some papers. We'd told the kids we were staying with Mrs. Longbottom for a while; the fact that Mum was never coming back hadn't been explained in so many words, but I'd been able to tell that Cormac understood. He'd just been sitting quietly in one of the arm chairs since we'd told him.

The kids were sort of excited about Mrs. Longbottom. They'd never met her, but she'd become a sort of a fable in our house; I'd told the kids stories about the woman with the house full of magical things. The quilt with the images that moved around and the photographs like videos and the dishes that scrubbed themselves. Ellie had insisted I rebraid her hair and had made Cal borrow Nate's sweatshirt so he would look "grownup." The fact that Nate's sweatshirt was several sizes too big for Cal made no difference.

"Will I get my own room in London?" Cal asked, suddenly preoccupied. "Because I only got my own room for the first time this year—"

"If we're sharing rooms, I shot Molly as my roommate." Nate said, raising a hand; Cormac glared at him. "What? You're at Hogwarts most of the time anyway—"

"We'll probably get our own rooms." I said shortly. This announcement was met with silence for a moment. And then Nate spoke.

"She has five extra bedrooms?" Nate's voice was low, frowning. I nodded, making a thumbs up and jerking my hand upwards; his frown disappeared, his eyebrows shooting up. "_More_ than five extra bedrooms? Who are we moving in with? The Queen of England?"

"No—no." I frowned at him, reaching over to hit his shoulder; he threw me an irritated look as Ellie rocketed towards him, and he caught her, pulling her into his lap and kissing the top of her head. She curled up in his lap, and I reached out, rubbing her leg; she smiled shyly at me. "But yeah, we'll all get our own room, probably. Her house is gorgeous."

"The Longbottoms are one of the oldest families in the Wizarding World." Cormac murmured. I glanced up at him, raising my eyebrows. "I read a book." He mumbled, blushing as he shrugged. "They're mentioned in the Volumes of Merlin. Along with the Blacks and the Weasleys and the Potters—" Cormac was just listing the names that were significant to us—the Volumes of Merlin were some five thousand pages, all together. Brat.

"Weasels?" Nate was determined to get their name wrong. "Potters?" Nate's gaze flicked to me. I nodded once. "Shit. Molly, you got all _fancy_ on us." Nate grinned. "You went all high-brow with your—"

"Shush." I muttered.

"Snob." Nate countered, jokingly.

"Die." I threw back.

"Can't be a snob _and_ muggleborn." Cormac countered. I exhaled, looking to Cory and exchanging a sympathetic look.

"Muggleborn." Nate repeated, as Cal sidled up to me, sitting down on the bench beside me; I brought my legs up to the couch, crossing them before I pulled Cal up and onto my lap. He leaned back against me, his head fitting neatly under my chin.

"Non-magical parents." I murmured.

"And that has an effect on your ability to be a snob because…" Nate's voice drifted off, and I winced.

"There was a war five years before we were born, the one that made Mr. Potter famous. It was between this man, Lord Voldemort, who had determined that only people born to all-magical families were worth teaching. It was really convoluted—anyway, everyone sane was on Mr. Potter's side and they won, so no problem." I shrugged. "There's still some carryover in terms of sketchy people who believe purebloods are better." I winced, glancing at Cormac. "Specifically, there's one family, the Goyles—their son has been hassling Cory." I swallowed.

"He only doesn't like me because you're dating Albus." Cory muttered, shrugging, and I exhaled shortly, looking away from Cormac.

"What have you been getting _up_ to—"

"Shut up, Nathanial." I snapped.

"And here I heard that you were rather fond of your siblings." An old woman's voice came from behind me, and I glanced back. Mrs. Longbottom, complete with the large animal on her hat, was standing in the doorway of Mr. Potter's office, her hand on the doorknob. The door had been repaired since I'd shattered it; I, on the other hand, still sported all my cuts.

"Mrs. Longbottom." I murmured, smiling a little as I lifted Cal carefully off my lap; I jumped up as Nate stood Ellie on the bench beside him so he could get up. Ellie turned to face Mrs. Longbottom, still on the bench, and put on hand on the back, staring at the woman alertly. "Hi—" I said eloquently as I gently pushed Cal around the bench; he stepped back into me the moment I paused, staring up at her. "It's lovely to see you." I paused, swallowing. "Thanks for taking us in at such short notice." I offered.

"Not a problem." She said dismissively. "You're rather cut up, Molly."

"I lost a bit of control earlier—" I murmured, wincing as Cormac came up beside me; Ellie was still standing on the bench, and Nate had paused behind her, a hand on her waist in case she lost her balance.

"Ah, well, it happens." She nodded once, efficiently, before she glanced down to Cormac, at my right. "You're Cormac?"

"Nice to meet you." He said, holding out his hand bravely; she rewarded him with a small, approving smile, shaking his hand.

"Nice to meet you too, Cormac." She said, nodding to him as she pulled her hand back. "I hear from my grandson that you're rather good at school." Cormac straightened up at the praise, grinning. She looked down to Cal, who pressed himself back against me.

"I'm Callum." He murmured in a soft voice. She nodded.

"Nice to meet you." She said with a touch of seriousness; her eyes were a little brighter, though, so it was clear that she understood that children required patience. "How old are you, Callum?"

"Seven." Cal said shyly, holding up six fingers; a moment later, his left index finger popped up after he frowned, recounting. I ran a fond hand over his hair.

"And three quarters." Ellie piped up from her spot on the bench.

"You must be Elena." Mrs. Longbottom said to her. Ellie nodded, reaching up to tug on one of her pigtail braids nervously.

"I have magic like Molly and Cormac and you." She volunteered. I smiled a little, and she continued when she glanced at me for only a moment, then back to Mrs. Longbottom. "I made a vine grow lots."

"You'll be good at Herbology then." Mrs. Longbottom said, smiling. "My grandson teaches Herbology at the school you'll attend when you're old enough."

"The one where Cory and Molly go." Ellie checked, and Mrs. Longbottom nodded. Ellie nodded once, then frowned, glancing nervously at Cal, then back to Nate. "This is Nate." She said after a moment, looking back to Mrs. Longbottom. "He's not magic."

"Oy." Nate muttered, sweeping Ellie up in his arms; she screamed in laughter, throwing her arms around his neck as she clung to him. Nate grinned at her, glancing at Mrs. Longbottom. "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Longbottom. I've heard quite a bit."

"Molly told us you have a clock with faces on it." Cal blurted out, and I looked down to my little brother. "So you know where Molly's teacher is and you can keep track of your family."

"I'll be adding your faces to that clock as soon as I can." Mrs. Longbottom said to her softly. "So I'll know where you lot are hanging about." She glanced up at me, smiling a little, and I smiled a little bolder at her.

"Thank you." I repeated softly. She sighed.

"Don't thank me." She murmured. "There's just a right thing to do, here. It's time for you lot to start over." She looked to Nate. "And I can do that for you." She reached up, adjusting her hat. "Your things have been fetched from your home, I thought it best we not return to Nottingham." Nate nodded, and glanced at me. I flashed him a tentative grin. Nate grinned good-naturedly back at me.

We were starting over.

I didn't get back until eleven that night; I knew Albus had had practice, and since neither he nor Fred were in the Common Room, I ducked out once I'd sent Cormac up to bed and gone down to the kitchens. I was still all cut up—Mrs. Longbottom had tried to heal them, but since I'd loaded the glass with magic when I'd accidentally exploded it, the cuts refused to heal. Wes Finnigan had assured me that they'd heal normally the muggle way were I just to let them be.

I pulled my hair up in a pony tail as I approached the entrance to the kitchens; I reached out, brushing my fingers along the canvass painting of the pear, and it giggled as I wrapped my hair scrunchy once, twice around my hair. A moment later, the painting swung open, and I stepped back to allow it room before I ducked inside. I stepped into the kitchens, narrowly avoiding knocking into a bustling house elf as I spotted Albus and Fred standing beside one of the many counter tops. I beelined my way over to them; Fred was the first to spot me, the grin dropping from his face as he saw my many cuts. Albus followed Fred's gaze, as I approached; his eyes darkened as I stopped in front of them, then turned, and jumped up on the countertop between them, my legs swinging above the floor.

"What the hell happened?" Al demanded. I looked to him.

"Exploded your dad's office door." I said after a moment, my voice low, before I reached out, snagging the unopened soda from his hand. I unscrewed the top, taking a swig before I outstretched my arm, inspecting the cuts.

"Why?" Albus followed up; I looked up at him, my eyes stinging, suddenly. There was no preoccupation of children, here; no one to be brave for. Just Albus and Fred. As if he knew what I was thinking, Al's hand slid gently down my scratched up forearm to grab my hand, squeezing it lightly for a moment. "Love?" I swallowed.

"Mum left." I murmured hoarsely.

"Holy crap." Fred's voice was low.

"She just left. I walked in this morning and she had made the decision." I shook my head. "Nate didn't even let me yell at her. And then Mr. Causer—he was there—he _defended_ her." I stared at Albus. "How could he love her? I don't understand how someone could _love_ her. She is too terrible. She—abandoned us. And then she wanted to flit back in sometimes and maybe wanted to invite us to her wedding and I told her no and Mr. Causer called me selfish." I pressed my lips together, looking back down to the soda in my hand. "She just _left_." I repeated softly.

"Oh, shit." Albus murmured, and I felt the tears in my eyes start as I looked back up at him.

"I thought she could do this." I whispered hoarsely. "I thought she _would_. She _said_ so and I _believed_ her."

"Love—" He murmured, and I slid off the counter; Al slipped an arm around my waist, carefully pulling me against him. I put the soda down on the countertop, then turned my face, pressing the un-cut side to his chest, and squeezing my eyes shut. We were starting over, it was true, and things only got better from here. But.

Here still hurt like hell.

* * *

**A/N**: This is enormously late. To regale my lovely, lovely readers with excuses, here are a handful; I got a job, said job took up enormous amounts of time, I was _fired_ from said job by a guy I'm basically best friends with (awkward, terrible day), and I got a kitten (lovely day). Anywho. Getting to write this chapter was lovely. Also, I literally wrote four separate versions (as in, start over completely) of this chapter. So dammit, like it.

I got an exceptional amount of reviews in the time between this chapter and the last. Not all of them were for the last chapter (though I got a record breaking THIRTY SIX REVIEWS FOR THE LAST CHAPTER WHOOP WHOOP), but every single one of them made me feel like Christmas in July/August.

I got…drum roll please… 54 reviews between this chapter and the last.

MERLIN'S MAGICAL PANTIES (to borrow a phrase from NotADreamNotYetANightmare).

This literally made my day. I did a dance. I partied. I hugged my kitten (my kitten then bit my face). I went to a concert. I called in fake-sick to a babysitting gig and danced more.

AH. Please repeat perform, at least half of you. This literally was mind-blowingly amazingsauce.

I have the best reviewers in the wholeentireworld.

Also, next chapter will be up soon. I promise.


	30. Akidagain

**A/N**: This is late again, but since this is also 21 pages in Microsoft word, I am not that sorry.

This chapter is dedicated to the timeless, magical . She spied my story with 491 reviews and review-attacked my story up to 500 and she is a magical ninja for such actions.

MAGICAL NINJA.

Anyway. In the typical, clumsy-carrie-wandering-though-chapters bit, I wrote this chapter, then realized that this is clearly the last chapter. I'm going to write an epilogue to this, so there will be one more post, I think. And I'm going to write another story. : ) But, yeah, this is somehow the almost end of Left Unsaid. The epilogue will feature a grand good bye and reviewer responses and that sort of lovely song and dance.

BUT OMG.

Guys.

We're so close to the end. Ah.

* * *

Akidagain

_Sweaty, cold, confused in another unfamiliar town,  
Another sold out show,  
Spilling my soul to a ton of people I don't know,  
And I can feel my skin wearing thinner,  
Fourth night, no appetite for dinner,  
Shit goddamn well ain't life grand…  
Back in the days when I was young,  
I'm not a kid anymore.  
-Travie McCoy_

"Morning, beautiful." Albus said with a grin as I slipped into the Common Room. I flashed him a tight smile.

"Hitting on her the morning of her dad's trial for child abuse." James drawled from his place sprawled on the couch beside the fire. "Classy."

"Shut up." Albus muttered, glaring at James. I exhaled, shooting both of them glares in the mirror as I turned to one of the mirrors on the wall. I looked nice, Al was right; my hair was in a loose braid, a headband holding back the fly aways, and I was wearing this white-and-blue alternating stripe dress with three quarter sleeves. Mrs. Weasley had warned me that while reporters weren't allowed on the Courtroom floor of the Ministry of Magic, they were allowed in the Lobby, and would almost assuredly be there. She'd mentioned that looking the part of the responsible older sister might help our case a little bit, and I'd figured I'd give it a try.

"Has Cory come down, yet?" I asked quietly, turning back to Albus and James.

"'M here." Cory muttered as he stumbled off the last step, messing with an untied tie. I turned to him, sighing.

"Kiddo, what's happened to your tie?" I asked him. Cormac blushed, looking down at the piece of clothing.

"I can't tie a tie." He muttered.

"What have you been doing all year?" I demanded, my eyebrows shooting up. Ties were part of the Hogwarts uniform.

"The house elves have tied them and hung them on my bedpost." Cormac admitted lowly, blushing still as he glanced self-consciously at Albus and James. "I ran into one on my first day and told him and he said he'd take care of it and that's—just—worked."

"I couldn't tie a tie myself at your age either." Al said with an easy grin; I felt a surge of affection for my boyfriend as my little brother straightened up, clearly heartened by that. "C'mere." Cormac shrugged, shuffling over, and Albus reached out, grabbing both sides of the tie. "So you've made friends with the house elves? D'you know your way down to the kitchens yet? If you're friendly with them, they'll give you dessert, not even bother you about eating a proper dinner first…" Albus told Cormac conversationally, and Cory's face lit up.

"I dunno how to get down there—" He glanced back at me accusatorily. "Why didn't you show me?" He demanded.

"Been a bit busy." I said dryly, raising an eyebrow at him. Cory looked back to Albus, looking uncomfortable for a moment as Albus finished tying his tie with a flourish.

"Would you show me?" Cory asked Albus after a moment. Al blinked down at the kid, then nodded, grinning at him as he reached to ruffle Cormac's hair; Cory ducked away, grinning.

"Tomorrow night." Albus promised, looking up to me. "Assuming no prefects catch us after your curfew—" He said wheedlingly, grinning.

"Oh, c'mon." I muttered, shooting him an exasperated expression. "Don't push Liam to the breaking point. He'll cry if I get us in trouble again." Albus snorted in laughter at the idea that Liam might cry. I flashed him a small smile, the most I could manage.

Today was the day.

I forced myself from that thought—today was the end, assuming things went well, but allowing myself to assume that would immediately make it false—and instead looked over my boyfriend, realizing, suddenly, that Albus had put effort into his appearance, today. Al had a suit on for the first time in my memory, a nice, well-tailored affair that was a solid black, with a crisp white shirt underneath. His hair was still messy though—forever messy—and he had dark jacket on over the suit that made him look still more formal. "You look…" I paused, letting the silence draw out, "nice." I finished as I approached, a smirk playing over my lips; Albus raised his eyebrows.

"Nice?" He questioned. "I am a modern-day Adonis, the son of the boy turned man who lived." The dry tone of his voice was impossible to miss. I took a step closer, and he rolled his shoulders; it was taking him physical effort to keep from slipping an arm around my waist as he so often did. But now we were playing a game.

"Someone's a little vain." I noted quietly, the smirk still tugging at my lips. "'A modern-day Adonis?'"

"Well, I'm dating the next _Princess Potter_ so—" Albus didn't get to finish that sentence as I leapt at him to make him shut up; he caught me, grinning as we stumbled back into the couch, and he held me flush against him, as he leaned backwards over the back of the couch, the last of the momentum carrying us so I was practically on top of him. His breath was suddenly faster, his face a little flushed, and I grinned.

"_I win_." I breathed, carefully making sure that there was not a shade of embarrassment on my face.

"I'm the one with the girl on top of him." Al murmured. "I would say that I've won _something_—"

"I am _uncomfortable_." Cormac said awkwardly, and I exhaled shortly as Albus straightened up immediately; I dropped my forehead to his shirt, wincing. I could feel Cory frowning at us; I felt a heated blush climb my face, even in the privacy of Albus's warm chest. I pulled away from Albus, looking down at my little brother.

"Sorry, kid." I murmured, but the impossible-to-get-rid-of smirk made it clear I wasn't sorry; Cormac glared resentfully at me. I sighed, reaching out to run a hand over his hair; Cory was in a suit that was a little too short but still, somehow, a little big in the shoulders and chest. Cormac, like most eleven-year-olds, grew _up_, but probably wouldn't fill out until he was thirteen or fourteen, like Nate. "You need a new suit." I said regretfully, tugging on one of his lapels. "But other than that, good job, you look nice."

"Never say that again." Cory muttered, shuddering away from me; I blinked, then realized I'd said the same thing Albus, setting off our little scene, there. "Gross." Cory grumbled as he started towards the Portrait Hole. Al sniggered, and I glanced up at him with a frown. He grinned at me unapologetically, and I pushed my hair out of my face, raising an eyebrow at him skeptically even as I suppressed a smile.

"If you guys start again, I'm telling Nate." Cormac called over his shoulder as he climbed out the portrait hole; James just crossed his arms, watching me. He didn't say anything, though, and I exhaled, feeling a prickly feeling on the back of my neck; Albus grabbed my hand, and I glanced up at him. He flashed an easy grin at me—for Albus, smiling was so easy. And it wasn't because his life was easy; he was just a positive person. And today was the end. Dad would be tried, Dad would be sentenced. And then Dad would be gone, and the Gales could start again.

I just couldn't fuck this up.

* * *

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic." A stout, bespectacled little man said in a bored voice as Albus, James, Cory and I stepped out of what had been a very cramped phone-booth ride. We'd had to come through the Visitor's Entrance to the Ministry, because since the Wizarding Wars, they'd created new wards where groups of four or more had to come through the Visitor's Entrance unless all members of the group worked within the Ministry. "My name is Matthew Morrigan. If I can have your names, I can issue temporary identification cards. Names, please?"

"Cormac Finley and Molly Sienna Gale." I said quietly, putting a hand on Cory's shoulder; my little brother backed into me.

"James Sirius Potter." James muttered irritatedly; the man's face changed, his wide gaze flying to James.

"Albus Severus Potter." Al said with a small smile for the man, and he glanced at Al now, before looking to me as Albus slid an arm around my waist.

"Oh, my." He said, clearly startled. "Please follow me." He said, leading us to a small kiosk only a few feet away; _Visitor's Information Centre_ was written across the front of it. He opened a large book, peering down at it for a moment before he grabbed a quill, scribbling something in. Then he glanced up at us. "Your father saved my life in the war." He said with a proud smile to the boys. "My name's Stan Shunpike. Quite nice to meet you." He stamped something in the book, and a drawer in the kiosk opened, four name tags floating out.

"Dad's mentioned you." Albus said with a grin; I wondered, when I saw the glossed over look in his eyes, whether or not this was true. James looked away unhappily, and I watched him interestedly. James clearly did not like being diplomatic; he did not like strangers. I exhaled as I stared at him; all he wanted in life was his family and Sera. "You were on the knight bus, his third year—"

"Oh, my!" The man squeaked, beaming. "Yes, yes—oh, my, it's nice to know I'm remembered!" He chortled, taking the name tags and scribbling out our names. "You know," He said, as he misspelled _Sienna_, and I forced myself not to correct him, "the first time I met your dad, he claimed to be _Neville Longbottom_!" The man laughed, and Albus laughed too, grinning at the man easily. "Alright, you lot, let's just see some patronuses and I'll send you on your way."

"_Expecto Patronum_," James muttered. A cat leapt from the end of his wand, landing on the floor before creeping back towards James, curling between his legs and around another.

"Alrighty." Stan Shunpike scribbled _cat_ down, under James's name in his book. "These are just so we can check your identity later on—make sure that no one switches identities, you know." He grinned at Cormac; he was missing a tooth. "Not expecting you to cast a patronus, don't worry." He looked to me. "Miss Gale, go ahead." He said.

"_Expecto Patronum." _I said quietly, carefully pointing my wand at the ground; silver spilled from the tip, falling into the shape of a phoenix. I stared down at it, then glanced up at Albus. Wordlessly, he pointed his wand at the ground and muttered the charm; a phoenix formed beside mine.

"Shit." James muttered, staring down at the phoenixes.

"No cursing around munchkins." Albus reminded his brother.

"I can hear you." Cormac said, frowning. "You understand that, right?" I sighed, putting a hand on top of his head and looking up at Albus, my eyes dark.

"Your patronus really changed?" I demanded lowly; Albus blushed.

"Patronuses can change?" Cormac asked me quietly.

"Means Albus is in love with Molly." James said shortly to Cormac, and Cormac stared, wide-eyed at James. I glared at James irritatedly, Albus elbowing his brother, hard, while Stan Shunpike scribbled it down in the book.

"I'm telling _Nate_." Cory told me in his tattle-tale voice; I raised my eyebrows.

"Nate knows." I murmured to him. Cormac gaped up at me, and I felt Albus's eyes bore into my cheek. I glanced at him expressionlessly, and Al had this pleased look on his face, this hopeful look that made me nervous.

"You told _Nate_ …?" Albus asked, seemingly realizing the significance of that. I swallowed, my eyes boring into him for a moment.

"He guessed." I muttered, feeling a flush work up my face; uncomfortable, I pulled Cory back against me. "He guessed in December." Albus stared at me, a slow grin brightening his entire face. I raised an eyebrow at him, making it clear I wasn't pleased; Albus was still grinning unabashedly.

"You lot are all set." Stan Shunpike said, and I dragged my wand from my patronus; the phoenix looked up at me disappointedly, then disappeared. Stan passed James and Albus their name tags before holding mine out with a smile. "I saw in _Conjurer's Chronicle_ that you two are soulmates—they consulted tea leaves and everything—"

"Lovely meeting you." Albus said with a grin for Stan as his arm slipped around my waist; I shot him a dark look. "Love, c'mon, we're going to be late—" Cormac snickered as Albus pulled me away from the kiosk, sticking his name tag on his coat.

"The _Conjurer's Chronicle_?" I hissed once we were out of earshot. Albus snickered.

"Well, the tealeaves said so…" He murmured in my ear. I exhaled shortly, shaking my head once. People were just too ridiculous, sometimes. Cormac caught up beside me, grabbing my arm, and I looked down at him.

"Mr. Potter." He said, pointing forward; I followed his gaze to where Al's dad was standing by the fountain. Albus grinned, waving at his dad; Mr. Potter grinned back at his son, crossing towards us and meeting us halfway, so we were in the middle of the entrance to the giant atrium.

"Took you all long enough." He said with a grin; James came up beside Albus, offering his dad a small smile. Mr. Potter clapped his son on the shoulder, glancing back to Albus, and his eyes slid down to the name tag, there. _Albus Severus Potter (Phoenix)_. Mr. Potter frowned a little. "Got your patronus wrong, kid?" He asked, glancing up.

"Albus's changed to match Molly's." James muttered, earning himself a scowl from Albus. Mr. Potter looked to me, his eyes wide, then back to his son.

"Well." Mr. Potter said after a moment, clearly caught off guard; he rubbed his forehead distractedly for a moment. "Alright." He glanced at me, smiling a little. "You two are…moving…quite fast."

"Not as fast as James and Sera." Albus said defensively. I sighed.

"What does that mean?" Mr. Potter demanded, glancing at his older son and frowning. James glared pointedly at Albus, the threat of death clear on his face.

"James got engaged to Sera!" Albus blurted out, and James froze, anger flashing across his features.

"Run." I advised Albus, disentangling myself from him, and he pecked me on the cheek, then took off as James swiped out, his hand closing on empty air; Albus was freaking fast. James took off after him, cursing loudly, and Mr. Potter turned to watch them go, wincing, before he glanced at me. I raised my eyebrows.

"Congratulations on your new daughter-in-law to be." I said, the slight mocking in my voice unavoidable. Mr. Potter shook his head, raising an eyebrow at me.

"I've known who _both _of my daughters-in-law will be for some time." He murmured. I felt a flush crawl up my face, and I pulled Cory against me despite a murmur of protest, resting my chin on his head. Now Mr. Potter knew how serious Albus and I were.

And I didn't mind in the slightest.

Nate was totally right; I had gone sappy.

* * *

"_This will go fine_." Albus murmured in my ear as we sat outside the courtroom, twenty minutes later. I didn't respond. I wasn't going to accept that lie—he was lying to make me feel better, lying without malice—but it was still a lie.

This was going to be the majority of our day: sitting outside the courtroom. We weren't allowed to see the other witness statements before we'd given our own; the Wizengamot didn't want us to somehow coordinate our stories. Mr. and Mrs. Potter were sitting with Professor Longbottom and Fred's parents, a little ways down the hall. Inexplicably, the furniture in the hall was mismatched, so across from their bench was a small couch, where Cal and Ellie were asleep, Cal curled up in the corner, and Ellie sprawled on one and half of the two cushions. Wes Finnigan was unhappily frowning at something in the file in his hands. Rose's parents were sitting with Mrs. Longbottom around a small coffee table. James had, in typical James fashion, distanced himself, and he was sprawled in the arm chair across the dark hallway, his eyes shut. And Nate, Albus and I were on a bench, my back leaning against Al, one of his arms around me, while Nate tried to sit as far away from us as possible while still on the bench.

"I can't believe everyone has a copy of that stupid file." I muttered as I stared unabashedly at the folder that Mrs. Potter had open on her lap.

"I'm going to throw up." Nate muttered, leaning over and ducking his head; I cast him a mildly concerned look.

"You're dealing with the stress well." I muttered. Nate said something that sounded suspiciously like _fuck you_ under his breath, locking his fingers as he clasped his hands, cupping the back of his head.

"I think the milk in my cereal was spoiled…." He mumbled, barely moving his lips. Albus snorted.

"Didn't you taste it, genius?" Al muttered.

"Die." Nate retorted lowly.

"I'm glad you two have such a nice rapport." I murmured, leaning my head back against the wall and closing my eyes. There was silence, and Nate's slightly unsteady breathing and the far-away murmuring of the adults as they struggled not to speak too loudly about my father in front of me were the only sounds in the silence. God, was this stupid.

"What if Dad isn't found guilty?" Nate's voice was quiet and tense.

"He will be." I muttered, glancing at him. Nate kept his expression clear as he tilted his head a little, still bent over his lap, looking at me upside down.

"I thought so." He murmured. "But then Cormac asked me that question, and now I don't know."

"He will be." I repeated, looking down at my lap. In the endless cycle of frustration that was my family, we were back _here_ again—this point where I repeated myself over and over again, trying to make it true. Because that worked so well.

"Because even though the folder from social services is _huge_," Nate just kept talking, as if I hadn't spoken, "and even though you and I are ready to go in there and _cop_ to all of this—" Nate shook his head. "The social services folder is just speculation. And if it's just speculation, who the hell cares what two teenagers say?" Nate straightened up a little, finally lifting his head to look at me properly. "Because that's all we are."

"He'll be found guilty." Albus murmured, looking at Nate seriously. "There are millions of new laws regarding treatment of minors by their legal guardians."

Nate stared at Albus for a moment, taking deep breaths. "If Dad is acquitted," Nate's voice was soft, "he could contest custody. He still has parental rights. Only Mum signed hers away." I ignored the flare of panic that threatened to smother my heart, my lungs, finding the flaw in that scenario.

"As if Dad cares enough about any of us to contest custody." I snorted, looking down at my lap; Albus's hand covered mine over the skirt of my dress. "And Mr. Potter said he was getting restraining orders." I murmured.

"You believe him?" Nate asked.

"Oy." Al muttered, annoyed at this not-so-subtle shot at his dad.

"Nate—" I murmured, glancing to him.

"You trust so fucking easy now, Molly." There was no missing the venom in Nate's voice—I wiped the shock from my face. Nate was jealous; I recognized the tone from every time I'd managed to wrangle something that he hadn't.

"Piss off." I said, my gaze sharp on his face.

"You trust _Mum_, you trust _Mr. Causer_, you trust _Al's Dad_—next up, you're gonna trust Dad." Nate's own bitter smile—the one I so loathed on him—rose to the surface as his voice got a little louder; the adults would hear, I realized in a flare of panic. "You've gone soft on me—" Nate was just saying things to be mean, now: what he was saying, it was my worst fear. And he'd disproved it just a few days ago.

"I've gone soft on you?" I repeated back to him, making sure my voice was cold and quiet. "You're the one sitting here whining about what if Dad isn't found guilty. Know what I'd do? I'd fix it. Because that is what I've _been _doing for the last few years. There's no fucking _point_ to angsting about it like some jackass who can't handle shit because we _can_." Nate turned away at my words, and I exhaled shortly, pushing my hair out of my face as I looked from my brother to Albus; Al was frowning seriously at me. I met his gaze unapologetically. I sounded like a sociopath, I knew; Albus had that worried look in his eyebrows, where they came together to form a little line between them. After a moment, though, the frown disappeared, and he grabbed my hand once more in his, giving it a squeeze.

"Just a few more hours." He promised. I nodded. I could do a few more hours.

Ten minutes later, Al's dad was called in, then Al's Mum, twenty minutes after that. She came back out after hers, briefly, to claim Cal and Ellie and bring them into the courtroom—they weren't testifying, because anyone in their right mind didn't put a lot of stock in the word of a seven-year-old—but other than her, everyone who went into the coutroom stayed. Professor Longbottom was called in after her, and then Rose's Mum, twenty minutes after that. A whole hour passed between her being called and her husband; Rose's dad was followed, forty minutes later, by Fred's Dad. Half an hour after him, Fred's mum went in. Then James was called, not long after his aunt; his testimony seemed to last a while though, forty minutes passing before Albus was called.

And then it was just Mrs. Longbottom, Wes Finnigan, Nate, and me.

Albus's testimony seemed to last a while, outside the doors, the four of us sitting in silence; Wes was still writing something on his legal pad, the folder on his lap open. Nate was staring at him, in a huge effort to make Wes—who Nate did not like, for no particular reason—uncomfortable. Mrs. Longbottom was reading a beat up paperback book she'd pulled out of her huge green carpet bag.

"What are you doing?" Nate finally demanded of Wes. Wes glanced up at him, his eyebrows raised, then looked to Mrs. Longbottom, as if expecting some kind of reaction out of our legal guardian. She just looked at him over her reading glasses.

"I rather like how blunt they are." She noted quietly, looking back down to her book, and Wes snorted in laughter, looking back to us.

"I'm compiling psychological profiles on you lot." Wes offered, gesturing with the back of his quill at us. I frowned sharply at Wes.

"You don't know us well enough to do that." I murmured. Apology flicked over Wes's face, but to his credit, he didn't look away.

"They're not asking me about your personal lives." He countered, and he reached down, lifting the open folder in his lap up a little. "I have to guess at your emotional damage as a result of ongoing abuse by your dad." I glared at him.

"Can we stop calling it that?" I demanded. "It wasn't like it was all the time—"

"What would you call it, Molly?" Wes asked me, irritation slipping into his voice. "I talked to you in August, I've been combing through your medical records and social service file for the last few days; I know for a fact that this has been going on for a while—"

"I wanted it this way!" I threw back at him angrily. "My dad never told me not to say anything! My dad never took a single step to hide this—it was _all me_! Was it fucking wrong of him to hurt me, yes. But. _I never said a word_." I was too angry now; stupid Wes with his stupid presumptions. My family was not easy to figure out. I'd spent sixteen years as part of it and I was still confused. He couldn't know how we worked yet; it simply wasn't possible. "I was at school, without him, _every time the teachers asked questions_! Nate didn't even know because _I _wouldn't tell him!" I stared at Wes. "Don't you _get_ it? I did this to myself. The first time I said something was in that goddamned police station when Nate and Dad had been arrested. I shut up for ten years, Wes. This is my own fault, that it got this bad. Yeah, he hurt me, and yeah, it was consistent, but _I never said anything_ so it's my fucking fault, Wes. Not Dad's."

Silence stretched as I stopped talking, my breathing heavy. I felt Nate's gaze burning into my cheek but I didn't look at him; Wes was staring at me too. Mrs. Longbottom was watching me sadly. The pity on her face made me want to kill someone; my heart was pounding and I felt the flush on my face. This was humiliating. This whole process was; the trial, Wes compiling psychological profiles, everything.

"You never hurt us, though." Nate said lowly.

"I should have said something, though." I kept my voice steady.

"You did." Nate muttered.

"Only when you got _arrested_, Nate." I said desperately, looking to him. "I'm the big sister, and I let things slide so far that I had to pick you and Ellie and Cal up from a fucking police station—"

"And I was willing to go to jail for Dad and you weren't willing to let that happen." Nate countered quietly. "You told when it was important."

"It was always important." I muttered, closing my eyes as I ducked my head. I rested my elbows on my knees, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes, making stars explode behind my eyelids. "I knew about your hand in November. Your black eye in—" I swallowed the rest of the sentence as the door to the court room opened and a security guard came out of the court room.

"Molly Selena Gale." He read off quietly from the parchment in his hand; I looked up.

"Sienna." Nate and I snapped in unison, but I pushed myself up after a moment, brushing off my dress.

"Right this way." The man murmured, opening the door, and I ducked my head as I passed him, slipping into the courtroom ahead of him.

The courtroom was huge and hexagonal, with the huge double doors I'd entered through on one side, with steps on each side of the door that led up to what resembled very tall bleachers that were on every other side of the room. The set of bleachers to the left of the door had everyone that already been called in, everyone who'd testified before us. Every other seat was filled with adults in plum colored robes; the only exception to that were the eight men and women in black robes at the front of the court. And then, at the front of the room just below where the Wizengamot members in black robes were sitting, my father was sitting, in a chair, an auror on either side of him.

Dad's broken nose had been fixed but he still had the shadows of two black eyes. Other than that, he was just in a suit, simple, but not one I recognized. Dad's face twitched when our eyes met and his gaze slid away from mine; I stared at him for a moment, then forced my gaze to drop from my father's. I crossed to the seat in the middle of the room; it was on a small platform, and clearly meant for the witness. I sank into it carefully, looking deliberately upwards; if I let myself stare at my father, I'd probably just cry.

"What's your name?" The man at the front asked; I exhaled as I realized that this was the Minister of Magic.

"Molly Sienna Gale." I said quietly, crossing my legs and folding my hands on my lap.

"We are here today to determine the innocence or guilt of Roger Declan Gale on seventeen counts of child abuse." The man said quietly. "Are you willing to help this meeting of the Wizengamot determine the truth?" Mr. Potter had told me that they would ask this ridiculous question, for formality.

"Yes sir." I said quietly.

"Good." The Minister said quietly, looking down at a folder in front of him for a moment. "What kind of relationship do you have with your father?" He asked after a moment, not looking up from the folder.

"It's rather strained." I said carefully.

"In what way?" The Minister asked, looking up interestedly, now.

I swallowed. I'd known I had to do this. And yet, sitting here in front of Albus's family and Fred's parents and all these adults—this wasn't what I wanted. Dad was going to jail—I didn't want that. I just wanted Dad _gone._ _That's not possible, though_. I reminded myself. If I wasn't willing to drop out of Hogwarts and take the kids and get the hell out of dodge, I had to do this. "I'm muggleborn—Dad's a muggle, and I think his issue with magic is that he doesn't—quite—understand it." I answered after a moment, struggling. I didn't know how to convey to these people that Dad was scary and mean but it made _sense_. He didn't just hurt people for fun; he was no sadist. He just didn't understand.

The Minister nodded after a moment. "And that was a source of conflict in your house?"

"Yes." I muttered. Kingsley Shacklebolt stared down at me for a long moment before he sighed, sitting back in his chair.

"I have a file from Nottingham's Children's Protective Services in front of me." The Minister said quietly. "It is perhaps the most alarming thing I have read in some time. It catalogues multiple incidents where you had a bruise, or, in a few cases more severe injuries—" he looked down, unfolding reading glasses and carefully putting them on, frowning a little at the paper. "At one point, you were brought to the hospital to get stitches after…" He paused, "tripping into the china cabinet?" I felt my teeth grate. This was terribly, mind-numbingly humiliating. Albus was here. His parents, his brother. Fred's parents. Professor Longbottom. It took every ounce of control I had not to silence that man. "These incidents were flagged, Molly, because the stories were implausible or unlikely, and the demeanor of your mother was described, here, by one doctor as _too apologetic_." Kingsley looked up to me appraisingly. "Were these incidents caused by your father, as this court is alleging?"

I exhaled, pressing my lips together. "Yes." I said lowly. The Minister nodded after a moment, looking down at his folder.

"All of them?" He asked. I swallowed.

"I've never been brought to a doctor or to a hospital without injury from my father." I muttered. The Minister nodded.

"Alright." He murmured. "Let me switch tracks, briefly." He paused, and I nodded once, permissively. "Do you live with your parents and siblings?" He asked after a moment.

"Just Cormac." I said quietly, pushing my hair out of my face; he was establishing facts for the court.

"And why is that?" The Minister asked.

"Dad kicked us out." I muttered.

Dad's head snapped up at this. "Just you." He corrected; I felt my stomach twist as I stared at him; he hadn't spoken to me since December. And his first words in months were to remind me that I was the only problem. "You kidnapped Cormac—"

"I did _not_—" I protested, my face scarlet, suddenly, with embarrassment, as I scrambled; I didn't know how to do this the way I did everything else. I couldn't be hard, here, glaring at him. I couldn't be mean. I had so little left to defend, here.

"You took him and ran, Molly." Dad's voice was cold and angry. "What would _you_ call it—he was more _normal_ than you, he never performed any magic, he could have just…" Dad's voice broke off as he stared at me desperately, "_he could have just been normal_ and you took it from him without a second thought—"

"Normal?" I repeated. "You think him staying with you would have left him _normal_? Leaving him with you would have turned him into _me_, Dad—do you want that, for Cory? Because I know _I _don't—"

"_You took him from me_!" Dad shouted at me, suddenly pushing himself up; I slid back in the chair instinctively, feeling the anger on my face give way to fear; an auror beside Dad stepped between us, shoving him back into the chair. My muscles were already painfully tight as I opened and closed my hands, trying to not look at Albus. I couldn't believe this was happening in front of him—in front of everyone.

"Mr. Gale, I'd thank you not to speak. You have had your chance. It is now your daughter's." The Minister said loudly.

"I don't consider her my daughter." Dad said coldly. I looked away, my eyes prickling as I crossed my arms across my chest. My lungs were tight.

"_Mr. Gale_," The Minister said sharply, "unless you have an objection to the fact that you are Molly's father, _stop talking _or you will face charges from this court." Dad fell silent, and I felt his glare on me. I exhaled. My stomach hurt. I wanted to get out of here so badly.

It was a woman, diagonally two rows back from the Minister of Magic, who spoke next, her voice a little high-pitched and nasal. "Obviously your father has an objection to what you said. Did he in fact kick both you and Cormac out?" I glanced up at her unwillingly, then to my dad.

Dad wasn't staring at me, not anymore. I forced myself to look away, now; the only thing worse than this would be to have Dad _not_ go to jail. For me to drag the kids through all of this in front of everyone and have that fail. "He kicked me out and made it clear he would hurt Cormac if I left him there." My voice was low and steady. "So, technically, no, Dad did not kick Cormac out. In fact, he wanted him to come home for Christmas. But Dad would have hurt him." I looked up to the woman now; she was very thin, with black hair and dark eyes that made her cheeks look more gaunt than they already did.

"Why would your father invite your brother back to hurt him?" She asked skeptically.

"It's not like Dad—plans—to hurt us." I struggled through the sentence. "It wasn't ever the point. He just got mad when I—did something magical. And since he took my wand away at the beginning of the summer, I couldn't really control my magic as well, and—"

"But he only hurt you?" She pressed. I exhaled.

"Until this year, yeah." I muttered.

"So you had no reason to take Cormac from your dad's custody." She said quietly to herself. My head snapped up.

"Dad would have hurt Cory—"

"But he never did, Miss Gale." Her voice was sharp. "Innocent until proven guilty, no?" She raised her razor thin eyebrows, a small, cruel smile on her features, and suddenly I knew how I recognized her, that expression to familiar to me to confuse. She bore a stunning resemblance to Celia Goyle.

Suddenly, I was no longer panicked, or defensive. I was just angry. And I knew how to be angry; I was good at that. For the first time today, I was entirely calm. "You would have had me leave my eleven-year-old brother in danger?" I asked, dangerously.

"I'm suggesting that your eleven-year-old brother wasn't in danger, Molly." She said quietly. "You said it yourself—your dad never hurt anyone but you." She raised her eyebrows. "And isn't it considerably more traumatic to be pulled from your home on your eleventh birthday than to have your father shout at you?" My heart was pounding as the adrenaline poured into my blood; my stomach clenched as I stared at Celia's mother.

"I wonder, Mrs. Goyle, whether it's more traumatic for a boy to have his father be a known death eater or be an abusive bastard." I kept my voice low and my lips curled upwards into the predatory smile that even rivaled Celia's mother. "Why don't you ask Donovan?"

Mrs. Goyle straightened up, her face flushing as she stared, open-mouthed at me; it was the Minister that jumped in first, though. "Miss Gale, you absolutely cannot speak to a member of the Wizengamot that way." the Minister said scoldingly, frowning. I said nothing. "It is our job to cast doubt on all parts of the story; then the facts prove the story, and we move on."

"You did not cast this doubt, Minister, and neither did she." I said tightly. "My dad did. Don't let him run this courtroom. It destroys your credibility."

"Pansy, you _were_ following a line of questioning set by the accused." The Minister said quietly, looking to Celia's mother. She blushed, glaring at him, but said nothing. "But let's stop this, resume the line of questioning." The Minister looked to me. "When was the first time your dad hurt you?"

I swallowed, my head moving to the side a little as I reached up, rubbing my neck. "When I was five, I had wall paper in my room that had animals on it." I kept my voice low. "I shared the room with Nate, my brother, he's just a year younger than me. Our mum took him to see her parents, because Nate was still in reception and I was in Year 1 and Nate could miss school because he could already read and had already been accepted to Lerner Prep so school didn't matter as much anymore." I exhaled. "Dad stayed with me because he had to work. Anyway, there was a thunder storm and I wasn't—a fan of those when I was a kid and when Dad came in the next morning, I'd made the animals on the wall paper move." Dad leaned forward in his seat, covering his face with his hands, his elbows on his knees. I stared at him. "He punched the wall." I muttered. "The picture that was hanging above my bed—it was of his mom before she died, with Nate and me—it fell and it hit my head." My dad still had his face pressed into his hands. "It wasn't bad or anything but—the woman at the Emergency Room said I had a concussion. I don't remember what we told her happened but she wasn't asking any questions that were weird." I fell silent.

"_What we told her_." The Minister of Magic repeated quietly. "You lied to people on your father's behalf? People who could have helped you?"

"Yeah." I said lowly. "Because it was just me. And then it was better for everyone. Dad was a good father to the kids. Cal and Ellie—probably wouldn't have been born, if I'd called an end to my family that first day. And Dad went to ballet recitals and football games and he fixed school projects. He did all the stuff dads do for everyone but me." I swallowed. "And Mum didn't—doesn't—make enough money to handle us on our own. Back then, it was all five of us at private school—Ellie and Cal were in reception at Lerner—that's a lot of money, even with sibling reduction tuition." I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to keep my face straight, my voice steady. "It was better for everyone."

"All those things are still true, though." The Minister pointed out, not unkindly; a headache started behind my eyes. "Your mum not only doesn't make enough money to support you—as I understand it, she signed over her parental rights earlier this week." Dad's head snapped up, and I met his gaze bravely. His eyes were icy blue—the same color as mine. Ellie and I got our dark hair and light eyes from our dad; it was an irony not lost on me that we were the ones who had caused so much grief in our household. He hadn't known Mum had bailed.

"But Dad hurt Nate." I said quietly. "And Nate got _arrested_. And in the muggle world, much like the wizarding world, getting arrested is a blow to your future. Nate's fifteen-years-old. He's applying to University soon." I rubbed my face, covering my eyes. "Nate would be trapped in Nottingham, trapped with Dad. I've heard all those ridiculous statistics, the ones where kids of abuse then abuse their kids—that only happens if the kids never get out. If Nate had gotten stuck in Nottingham for the rest of his life, never going to university. I couldn't leave him there like that."

"So you told the muggle police about your dad not to protect yourself, but to protect your brother." The Minister noted. I didn't respond. "Hasn't your dad been hurting Nathanial since October, though?" I rubbed my cheek self-consciously. _This question_. This was the question I didn't want to answer because it destroyed everything else.

"You have to ask Nate that." I muttered.

"But we asked you the question, Molly." An elderly woman beside the Minister pointed out.

"I can't answer it." I said shortly.

"Does that mean you don't know?" Mrs. Goyle asked, a small smile curling on her features. "Because, to be frank, Molly, I do not believe you." I stared at her unrepentantly.

"Was there a question in there?" I asked quietly.

"Are you honestly telling us that your brother—the one who has, by all accounts, been your best friend since he was born—may or may not have been abused since October and you _don't know_?" Mrs. Goyle said slowly. I looked down, a lump rising in my throat. I was a terrible person. Mrs. Goyle had found the flaw in my story, the flaw in our lives.

"You have to understand," I said roughly, "I love my brother." I sounded like I was about to cry, but I couldn't not here. "But I didn't _want_ _to_ _know_ whether Dad was hurting him." I sniffed, reaching up to rub my nose. "I didn't have anything to do." My voice dropped softer as I looked up at the adults before me, wondering how long it would take for them to realize that while Dad had been the one swinging, I had been the one making sure he still could. "I didn't know where the kids would go, even. Five kids is a _lot._ Rose's parents didn't want _me_ much less all of us." I shook my head, closing my eyes and covering my face. "I didn't ask because if I asked and the answer was yes, Dad has hurt him—I would have had to drop out of Hogwarts, taken the kids, and run." I let my hands slide from my face, my voice hoarse. "And I would have left Cory at school because Hogwarts is better for kids then being raised by a drop-out of an older sister in some two dollar apartment—but—" I took a deep breath; I had to admit to this. Everyone had to know that this was _my fault_, not anyone else's. "I _really didn't want to do that_. I have a boyfriend. And a best friend, first Rosie, and then Fred. I _love_ my siblings—I have given huge concessions for them, and were I to do over my life, I still wouldn't have said anything all those years—" I shook my head, "but I just couldn't bring myself to really press Nate on the issue because I couldn't do anything. Even if Nate was getting hurt—what was I going to _do_? Cory's eleven, and we were at _boarding_ school. We had a place to live all worked out and Cormac can get himself dressed and make himself breakfast. Cal and Ellie are seven. They're so little—too little for boarding school, nevermind that I wouldn't be able to find the money for that." I shook my head. "I have no idea whether it started in October or not. That's just when I think it started. That's all that Nate's admitted to me. I don't know."

"You would have dropped out of Hogwarts if you'd had it confirmed that Nate was getting hurt?" The Minister asked. I nodded. "Even though you yourself admit that there was no plan?"

_Plan_. The word I'd used four hundred times, describing what was going on. I'd fought so damned hard for my parents right to parent—I'd had a _plan_ to return Cormac to their custody. A _plan_ to get Mum to leave Dad. A _plan_ to keep everything from going to hell. And now I was sitting here, in front of all these people.

"The kids come first." I murmured, looking down. "That's my plan. It has been from the beginning. Whatever I'm doing, wherever I am, the kids have always come first. This year, for the first time, I—got—comfortable. At school, I mean. I got close to Albus and Fred and this other boy Liam and I let my family fall away because my family is messy and terrible and makes my stomach hurt. But yeah. If Nate had confirmed he was getting hurt, I would have dropped out of Hogwarts." I glanced up at Mrs. Goyle, who was staring at me incomprehensibly.

"I have to say, Molly, this sounds an awful lot like—"

And then Albus cut her off.

* * *

_Albus's POV_

Albus Severus Potter did not get angry often.

He'd grown up being the happy Potter sibling. James was anger personified; his dark eyes and dark hair and facial expressions. Albus only ever saw him smile once he'd started at school and met Sera. And Lily was the baby—she was happy around their parents and the devil around Albus and James. But Albus had his bright green eyes and his grins and his best friend was his cousin and they spent every moment together.

But then Molly had started dating Mikey.

That was the first time that Al remembered being truly angry—that _I would kill you _anger, the kind that made him want to hurt someone—at Mikey, too, of all people; Mike had been his roommate for years and was harmless. Albus had never punched anyone other than his brother before the Christmas dance their fourth year; the next day, Mikey and Albus both had bruises, and Molly was single.

From there, the anger just kept coming. Molly turning up at the Leakey Cauldron, bruised and crying; Molly laughing as Rose admitted to the Common Room that Rory had kissed Molly. Molly kissing Rory at a game and Albus _losing the snitch _because he thought his head might explode. Molly coming to the Hospital Wing because her dad had pushed her down stairs. Molly talking in that terrible numb voice that made his heart hurt because Rose had betrayed all of them and they'd been stupid enough to not see it.

It hadn't been until she'd kissed him that it had occurred to him, however, that the common factor here was Molly.

He'd had two months to come to terms with that. Two months to come to terms with the fact that he loved Molly. That his patronus—the famous Potter patronus—had changed to a phoenix because that's what _hers_ was. Still, though. When Celia's demonic mother started in again on Molly, Albus's heartbeat was fast and loud in his ears—he was still so bad at being angry.

"Stop." The word left him long before he realized what was happening, that he was standing, here, in front of the Wizengamot. "There is nothing else that you don't already know. That folder—the one that you yourself, Minister, called the most alarming thing you've read—is full of objective accounts. I confirmed the incidents that weren't reported." Albus exhaled heavily, his green eyes flaming. "This is clearly hell for her. Let her go."

"Mr. Potter, not even the privileged son of the boy-who-lived may speak to the Minister of Magic that way." Mrs. Goyle said coldly. Albus stared hard at the woman.

"Your personal bias in the case does make me lose my head a little, Madame." He threw back angrily. "I'm not sure which potential bias gets at me more—the fact that your _husband _called Molly a _mudblood _in October, or the fact that your son has been bullying Molly's brother Cormac and getting in trouble for it."

Silence stretched as the room filled with tense silence; Mrs. Goyle's face was rapidly turning red. She wasn't speaking, though, so Albus took the moment to look down at Molly. His girlfriend was ashen white, staring at her father, her eyes wide and dark-circled.

"That's ridiculous." Mrs. Goyle said after a moment, a little shrilly.

"Molly, is Albus correct?" The Minister of Magic asked quietly, looking down to Molly. Albus squeezed his fist shut, resisting the urge to hit someone.

"Yes sir." Molly's voice was low, but there was still that distinctive edge to it; Molly was still very much Molly. It was a comfort to Albus to know that she was okay like that.

"Pansy," Kinsley said quietly to the woman, "would you recuse yourself? I promise to give credence to these allegations only following further investigation but for the time being, we are rather involved in this court case."

Mrs. Goyle glanced angrily from Kingsley to Albus, then back to Kingsley. Albus watched her, a little shocked; even to hesitate on a request from the Minister of Magic was rude. "Of course." Mrs. Goyle murmured, pushing herself to her feet stiffly. Kingsley nodded, looking down to Molly, sympathy edging onto his face. "Molly, you may also be excused." Molly pushed herself up in a heartbeat, and Albus slipped sideways through the bleachers, as Molly turned and walked carefully towards the door, her arms crossed against her chest. "Albus," Kingsley called, and Albus forced himself to stop, glancing towards his godfather. "Don't interrupt court proceedings again. I will charge you with contempt." Albus nodded, even as Molly slipped into the hallway, and Al slipped through the rest of the row, down the steps of the bleachers, and spent only a step crossing to the door, before he slipped out the doors at the front of the hall.

"Molly!" Al called out, as soon as he'd hit the hallway, tensely, even as Nate passed him and ducked into the court room, a weary glance exchanged with Albus. Al liked Molly's brother, but right then, he was far too angry to sympathize with the younger boy, the sound of his heartbeat rushing in his ears. He hated Celia's mother. He hated the Minister of Magic, no matter that the man was his godfather. No one had the right to do what had just been done to Molly. Why hadn't the minister _known _that Mrs. Goyle hated Molly? Why had she just been allowed to ask those questions?

Molly stopped halfway down the hallway, turning sharply back to Albus, and Al slowed down, sliding to a stop a few feet in front of her. She was staring at him, her eyes wide and a little too shiny; she was going to cry. Damn those people, for doing this to her.

"Molls—" Her name left his lips as he jogged the feet between them, she shook her head as he stepped close to her, reaching up to smooth her hair back from her face. She looked up at him through her eyelashes, and Albus had to force himself to exhale. Merlin, was she pretty.

Albus winced. He was an ass. Not the time to think that way.

"You shouldn't have said anything." She mumbled, and Albus felt his teeth grate. Molly was _so goddamned stubborn_. "I deserved that." She looked away from Albus as he straightened up.

"Stop it." Albus countered.

"I never said anything. I knew—" Molly's voice choked off, and Albus heard shuffling behind him; he squared in front of Molly, blocking her from view of whoever had come out.

"You said something eventually." Al murmured to her, keeping his voice soft; he was angry, but not at her, and Molly didn't need that, right now. "You said something at the police station, when it mattered; when Nate would have suffered for the rest of his life. We're _here_, aren't we?" Albus gestured wildly around them. "We don't get _here_ without someone saying something—"

"After _months._" Molly's voice was cruel, but only to herself. Albus felt that flood of anger that choked off his throat, the one that threatened to take over. "It took me _months,_ Albus. It took a broken hand and a sprained wrist and two black eyes—don't you get it? I'm as much at fault here as Dad—"

"No." Albus murmured, his voice even, but it was a struggle because she was so wrong. "Merlin, no. Your dad hurt you. For so long—" Albus ran a hand over his hair, pressing his lips together for a moment. She'd been five-years-old. A little girl. "No, love." Albus finally managed to say quietly. "Your dad is a terrible person—the kind of person who lacks any kind of morals. I have _watched_ you worry and wonder about the kids and they're okay, now, because you told when you did." Al stared at Molly. "I swear to you, Molly. You are a better person than your dad, twentyfold. You did not do this."

Molly stared up at Albus, and it was this look—this look that he'd seen too many times on her face—that broke his heart. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe him because if she did, she would feel better; she just wasn't sure if he was telling the truth, though. And Molly lived in a world of absolutes—you were either right or wrong. Good or bad.

It still stunned Albus that even though Molly separated the world into only two categories, she somehow put herself in the wrong one.

"Are you sure?" She asked shakily after a moment. Albus ran a hand through his hair. Molly had to believe this.

"Do you trust me?" He asked after a moment, because he knew that answer. He knew that answer because Molly loved him and Molly loved no one, because Molly had tried her hardest to avoid him and failed. So Molly nodded, and Albus reached out, cupping her cheek carefully, his thumb stroking her cheekbone. "I swear, Love." He murmured. Molly stared at him, still, looking like a lost little girl, and Albus sighed, his hand sliding from her face to put his hands on her hips, letting them rest there. Molly was miserable, here. Finally, he pulled her against his chest gently, and she gave into the embrace, hiccupping a little as she pressed her face into his shoulder. Albus felt that wave of red-hot anger again, but just closed his eyes, pressing his face into her hair and breathing in. Being pissed at her father did nothing. The fact of it was, Molly was safe, now.

Albus could kill later.

* * *

_Molly POV_

"Why is this taking so long?" Nate muttered as Ellie sat on his lap, watching me carefully; Cal was chasing a snitch that Albus had had in his pocket, while Cory was eating a chocolate frog that Mrs. Longbottom had offered him. We were waiting for the Wizengamot's vote to be done; it was only supposed to take a few minutes, and it'd already been ten.

"It's not been that long." Ellie told Nate chidingly, leaning back in his arms to look up at him; he looked down at her seriously. "You're just impatient."

I snickered. "Yeah, Nate." I said, grinning at my brother. Nate shot me a glare, then exhaled, leaning down to kiss the top of Ellie's head; she moved closer to him, ducking her head and pressing her forehead into the space between Nate's neck and shoulder. I smiled at them fondly; Ellie and Nate were adorable. Nate liked being a big brother—despite his whining, despite being sort of an asshole—and especially liked Ellie. Cal had no interest in a big sibling except for when he'd scraped his knee or something, and Cormac already had me straightening his ties and making sure he brushed his hair. Ellie worshipped the ground Nate walked on.

"It's unfair when you two gang up against me." He whined. "I always lose."

"Sisters." Albus agreed. Nate nodded.

"You only have one sister." I retorted, glancing to Albus.

"Yeah, but she gangs up with _Mum._" Al shook his head, and I snorted in laughter. Mrs. Potter was a force of nature. I leaned my head against his shoulder, closing my eyes for a moment and giving myself a moment of rest. "You alright?" Albus murmured softly.

"Molly's fine." Ellie chirped, leaning over Nate as my brother caught her, making sure she was steady. Albus looked to Ellie with an attentive expression. "She's _Molly_." I smiled at Ellie. "Just like _Natey _is fine always. He's _Natey_."

James Potter snickered. "Natey?" He asked, raising his eyebrows. Nate glared darkly at James, who raised his eyebrows, unbothered by a glare. "Nice name."

"Sisters have dibs on that name." I told James. "Or shall I call you Jamie?"

"Sera only." James muttered, frowning at me. I nodded; Nate made a questioning noise beside me, and I glanced at him.

"Girlfriend has dibs on _that_ name." I explained to Nate; he nodded understandingly, pulling a face.

"Melanie called me _baby._" Nate muttered. "Girlfriend nicknames are bad news bears."

"You dumped her?" Nate nodded. "I told you not to date her." I said, shaking my head; Nate rolled his head, smothering a smile. "Girl _bit_ me."

"What?" Albus demanded; I nodded, glancing at him.

"In defense of Melanie, they were six." Nate said easily. Albus raised his eyebrows, a smile tugging at his lips.

"That changes things." Albus pointed out.

"Well obviously she's still weird if Nate dumped her." I said easily, glancing back to Nate. We were bantering, struggling to distract ourselves that in minutes, our lives were either fixed or completely destroyed. "Why'd you dump her?"

"Had to dump her before we moved to London." Nate commented quietly, and I frowned at Nate, my eyes a little darker. We lived in London, now. Finn, Mr. Causer, Mum. Everyone was part of the first chapter of the Gale family.

Assuming Dad was found guilty. _Please_.

"You like her a lot?" I asked after a moment, regretfully. Nate shrugged.

"She was sort of evil, but she was super hot." He said, clearly unhappy. I frowned chidingly at him, reaching out to slap his arm. He offered me a half-hearted grin. "I tell only the truth, General."

"Shutup." I muttered. "Tell me about school."

"Small classes, nice teachers." Nate shrugged. "The kids are nice, if a little…" Nate looked down at Ellie, then back up to me. "Preppy." He grinned, looking back down at Ellie. "But this one fits right in, _don't you_?" Nate looked back up to me. "She got invited to a friend's house her second day at school."

"Wowers." I said, and Ellie beamed at me.

"We're going to a sleepover." She said excitedly. "Cal's coming too. It's at Andy Reycraft's house—"

"Andy is a boy on Cal's football team." Nate supplied to me, and I nodded to him, smiling. "Who also has a twin named…something ridiculous. I forget." He glanced down to Ellie. "Elle?"

"Tiara." Ellie told him tartly. "But I think that's a _nice_ name." Ellie said, frowning; I snorted in laughter. Ellie glared full-out at me. But before she could refute my opinion, Mr. Potter stepped in front of me, a half a tired grin on his face. Albus's hand found mine in an instant as Nate sat up straight beside me.

"Roger Declan Gale was sentenced to ten years, two months and fourteen days of incarceration." Mr. Potter said quietly, smiling still. I stared at him, my brain spinning; ten years, two months and fourteen days. That was very specific. Because in ten years, two months and fourteen days, the twins turned eighteen. They were adults, in the eyes of Wizard and Muggle law.

In ten years, two months, and fourteen days, none of the Gale children were up for legal guardian limbo.

"That's random." Fred's dad said quietly, and I shook my head thickly, my eyes burning as I ducked my head. It was over.

"Fourteen…eleventh…" Nate mumbled aloud, working out the dates. "Oh my God." I glanced at him, my eyes burning. It was over. It was over. Mr. Potter had made sure that this was over, forever. I pressed a shaking hand to my forehead as I turned to look at Albus, tears gathering. Albus stared at me.

"Twins' eighteenth birthday." I murmured. Albus nodded, then reached out, smoothing my hair back from my face tenderly. Albus gave me a few moments of silence before he studied me, then spoke.

"I told him the date." Al murmured. I stared at my boyfriend. "I figured rather than just aim for the vague—as long as possible—you guys should get what you need which is—" I cut Albus off, leaning over to hug him tightly, pressing my face into his neck.

"Thank you." I murmured into his ear. "Thank you, thank you." Albus said nothing, running his fingers through my hair, his arms sliding around me tightly, and I exhaled shakily into his shoulder, ignoring Ellie's confused questions behind me.

They were safe.


	31. Epilogue

Oh, my Goodness. This is late. But forgive me. One last time.

This is the end. Fin. Finished. Done. It's all over. No more Left Unsaid.

I think I might cry.

Okay, confession time: I did cry as I wrote this. And not because it was sad; it's not. Just because. It's the end. I spent a long time writing this, then scrapping other versions. Then hiding. Then writing more, then hiding, then doing more school work and using my school work to hide from my crappy epilogue because I love Left Unsaid far too much to mess up the Epilogue.

* * *

February 25, 2022

Nate

Nathanial Isaac Gale was not a boy who collected friends.

He'd had a best friend, in Nottingham, and a girlfriend, for a bit, before Finn had talked to her and she'd sort of known and Nate hadn't been willing to risk everything for a girl who popped her ps obnoxiously. So he'd cut her loose, and he'd eaten lunch with a couple of other kids, but mainly, his friend was Finn, and that was it. Not a particularly social boy.

So, starting at a new school was a nightmare.

Especially this school, he thought, looking at the looming stone building in front of him. This shiny school with a suit that had it's own little emblem and a tie—which he'd had enough sense to loosen, and he'd unbuttoned a button of his collar, because he didn't want to get beaten up. This was a prep school. _What has Molly gotten me into this time_? He'd known from his arrival at Mrs. Longbottom's that things were different, here, in this sparkly London neighborhood where his house was large and he had a weird little house elf and his own room, for the first time in a long time. But this was a different level. Lerner Prep hadn't really been a _prep school_—preppy, sure, a little, for the rough neighborhood of Nottingham they'd lived in. But there were still fights in the courtyard and kids with _troubled families_ (Nate knew nothing about _those kids)_ were as common as rain.

Mrs. Longbottom was bringing the twins later, and had offered to come over with him now, but Nate had opted out. He had to go early to meet his assigned buddy—new kids got _buddies _at this school—and get his schedule and meet with the headmaster.

"Hi, are you Nathanial Gale?" A girl who had been standing looking at her cell phone on the front steps asked; Nate glanced at her sharply, before he nodded once, hoisting his black backpack—it was new, as were all the school supplies within it—higher on his shoulder. She was pretty, short and dark skinned with her hair back in a braid. "I'm Teresa Levin—call me Tess—and I am your new buddy." She beamed, coming down the stairs and holding out a hand for Nate to shake; he did, his eyebrows raised. Kids shook hands here. Hmm.

"Hey." He said after a moment, quiet. "Nice to meet you—" He paused, glancing around. "Thanks for coming to school an hour early for me, I guess."

"Oh, no problem." She was still smiling; she was too smiley. "I'm head prefect anyway so I would have had to come early for a meeting and that would have just been boring; this is much more interesting." He guessed that she blushed a little because now she looked flustered, though he couldn't tell. "Let's get inside; it looks like it might start…snowing?" She glanced, looking up at the sky, and Nate followed her gaze upwards; by the time he looked down again, she was already moving inside.

Oy.

Nate forced himself forward, up the stairs and through the large double doors at the entrance; a security guard sat at a desk inside and looked up expectantly. Tessa waved Nate towards the desk as she stepped up to it, resting her forearms on the counter and flashing her big smile to the guard. "Hi Devon, this is Nathanial Gale, he's new today—you should have an ID for him—"

"Indeed I do." The guard smiled too, at Nate, and Nate took a deep breath. So many smiles. Devon the guard grabbed one of those big yellow envelopes and slid it across the desk; Nate took it and looked down at it, then flipped it over, opening it. Nate opened the ID and reached inside, pulling out the pieces inside; a school ID the size of a credit card, and a yellow packet and two copies of his schedule. And a t-shirt that said _Watson Wolves _in the corner. "You're lucky to have Tess showing you around, lad." The man said in a thick Irish accent; Nate glanced up at him.

"Yeah, she's head prefect, I hear." Nate said, glancing at Tess; she was still grinning.

"We really have to get going, Devon, but I promise I'll bring Nate back so he can get to know the real head of this school." Tess told Devon, and then she grabbed Nate's hand—_she grabbed Nate's hand—_and pulled him after her. Nate couldn't help the hormones pulsing though his veins, and he forced himself to take a deep breath.

Tess led him through another set of doors and up a stair case that was twice the size of that at Lerner; around and around and around, until she pulled him out the door that led to the roof. It was a playground, for the kids, Nate had to imagine, but Tess dropped his hand and walked easily over to swings, dropping her bag before she sat down on one. Nate hesitated, then followed suit. He was a little more reluctant to sit on the swing, but he did, a few beats after her.

"So why _is_ the head prefect showing me around?" Nate asked after a moment, his voice quiet. He was careful to sound regular, but he felt his heartbeat move a little faster as he contemplated the idea that maybe Mrs. Longbottom had _told_. Maybe the school had assigned the _troubled _boy the smiley head prefect.

"I was going to start with the question _are you new to London_, but sure, let's start there." Tess said without skipping a beat; Nate glanced at her, and she was still smiling, a little less earnestly, however. "And I am taking time out of my ludicrously overbooked schedule to show a half-year student around for two reasons." Tess raised one finger. "First, because you're new meat and I wanted to see what we were dealing with." Nate raised his eyebrows at this. "What? We're a small school, only forty kids our year. New kids are a big deal." Tess laughed a little. "And second, because I know all about Hogwarts. So I told the administration that you were my old friend from camp so I could catch you alone."

_Hogwarts_.

Nate didn't even flinch, though he felt his stomach churning; he wasn't supposed to talk about Hogwarts. He'd been so pointed about this with Ellie and Cal that it made _him _feel guilty. "How?" He asked after a moment, his eyes flicking to his backpack, momentarily; he had his magic mirror in there. Had she _sensed_ it or something?

"My whole family went there." Tess said, smiling still. God, didn't her face hurt by now? "Levin Wand Makers, Superior Sticks since 1012."

Nate considered this. He didn't know the name of the company, but that didn't mean much. He didn't pay a lot of attention to magic things that weren't relevant to his sister, and there was a lot of _that_, so he wasn't exactly every in a position to look for more things.

"Why aren't you there?" Nate asked after a moment, his voice free of suspicion, but he was thinking it.

"Got shortchanged." Tess explained with a shrug, still smiling. "I'm a squib. It's like the opposite of your sister—she's got all muggle blood, but is magical. Well, I've got all magic blood—or most, there is that cousin on Dad's side—and am nonmagical." Nate stared at her, losing her explanation for two words she'd said.

"You know about my sister." He murmured, his lungs tight. Molly had been meticulous about the papers but Nate had subscribed to the Daily Prophet once he'd convinced the owl to deliver them to school. He'd rather be the weird boy who received mail from owls in the school yard then the boy with the black eye who got them at home. "And my mum, and my dad—" Nate closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against the chain of the swing. He already had a headache. "Is there anyone else in this school?"

"No." Tess said quietly, smiling gently now; Nate forced himself to open his eyes, looking at Tess.

"Are you going to tell people?" Nate asked softly. He'd lied on his application, he knew; said he'd never been arrested. False. And Tess knew that.

"Am I going to tell people your dad's an abusive, imprisoned bastard and your mum flaked?" Tess demanded, incredulous at the question. "No, no. Jeez." She frowned, now. "None of their business, first off. None of mine either, but tabloids, whatchagonnado?" And she said it just like that, one word. Nate chuckled, partly due to relief, and partly because this girl who was head prefect and pretty and well-spoken said things like that. "Story that I believe you're going with is that your Mum's having some issues and your dad's out of the picture and you are staying with your great aunt Augusta Longbottom in a lovely home that I hope to be invited to sometime soon."

"I told the school my dad is dead." Nate admitted quietly. He'd checked that little dark box, _passed, date 02/23/22 _. He'd written down the date of his dad's trial. Mrs. Longbottom hadn't said anything, copied the same onto the twins' forms.

Everyone knew it was better to pretend like he was dead.

Well, everyone but Nate's stupid therapist. Nate had a _therapist, _now, a woman who basically sat there for an hour twice a week and listened to him yell about how much he hated therapists. Granted, he'd only been one and a half times—he'd walked out, halfway through, the first session. But he had to keep going. It'd been part of the rules—he and Molly both saw therapists now. Cormac didn't, but that was because Cormac talked to people. And years of their parents had long ago squeezed that instinct out of Nate and Molly.

Nate spoke to Molly a lot too, but that was every night, and sometimes for hours. Just repeated conversations about how it couldn't be over; after nightmares with reassurances that at least things were done, now. Even if the nightmares were still there and even if things still sucked, they weren't getting worse. He told that to the twins, too; he knew Molly had said it to Cormac, a few times. It'd only been a few days since the trial, and they'd already needed that much reassurance. Nate didn't think he'd realized how broken they'd been until he'd been given a chance to survey the damage. Now, though, it was clear.

His family was a disaster.

"Still only your business." She murmured. "It's a shame how much your family's been in the papers. I know if I'd had that much exposure, I would be dying to rewrite my story so it was _mine_ again. I'd probably say something more ludicrous, though. My father was…an American astronaut or something." She shrugged, and her words made Nate smile.

"I just don't want them looking into him." Nate admitted quietly. "I don't want to have to deal with that, and I can't ask Mrs. Longbottom to deal with it. The kids are on board, because they're seven and get on board with everything." Nate let out a breath. "And they're happier now that's he's gone." He shrugged. "But yeah, Mum ditched. No sense in beautifying that bit." Nate shook his head once, just a little shake. Silence fell between then before Tess looked at Nate.

"I'm sorry your mum ditched." She said quietly.

"I'm not." Nate murmured, looking down at the ground. "She was weak. And we could handle that, when things were okay, or better—" Nate swallowed. _When things were okay_. But Molly had been getting shit from his dad for ten years. Things had never been okay, not really.

He just hadn't known that. His mother had, though, she had to have.

"She let Molly take a lot of shit for ten years." Nate said quietly. "And Molly took it, because that's the kind of sister she is, but she needs a better mother. And Mrs. Longbottom, and Molly's friend's Fred's mum has already done that." Nate shrugged, looking up.

"What about you?" Tess asked. Nate shrugged, because that was all he was willing to offer this girl he barely knew. He'd already said too much. But he was lonely and starting a new school and this girl _knew_. He didn't have to censor himself.

"So, I don't know if you do this, because you're a muggle and was raised a muggle," Tess said after a beat, smiling again, "but your sister is dating the son of the most famous man in our world. More importantly, however, your sister is dating a boy who supports the Chudley Cannons, and my question is—do you? Because I live and die by them. So I'm not sure we can be friends if you don't."

Nate stared at Tess. Smiley girl was smiling again, and willing to lie for him, and head prefect, and pretty. "Stop smiling." He said finally. "You're freaking me out."

"Oh, now." Tess said, tilting her head to the side. "That's half the fun of it." Nate exhaled, tilting his head back to look up at the sky again. It was a dark grey, and it was getting colder; Tess had been right, it was going to snow. For some reason, though, he felt unreasonably warm. After a moment, he looked back to Tess and smiled back at her.

He could build something, here.

* * *

April 2022

Molly

"I demand mail." Fred said irritatedly as he looked at the letters that had landed on my plate. I glanced up at him, smiling a little, even as I reached to sort through the mail. Two letters from Nate, One from Cal, one from Ellie—Mrs. Longbottom helped them send their own letters, now—one from Mrs. Longbottom, and two from Dean Thomas, the man who was organizing my parents' estate. My mom had given over possession of the house—she'd moved in with Mr. Causer and Finn—to a trust in Nate's and my names, and after a few discussions, Nate and I had agreed to sell it and leave the money in an account to gain interest until one of us needed it. It wasn't very much, but it was enough in case of trouble, and Nate had agreed that we needed a backup plan. After, that is, he'd spent ten minutes mocking my making yet another plan.

"This is getting pretty silly." Albus agreed. I ignored them, opening the letter from Cal first and tugging out a card. _Happy Mothering Day!_ He'd written in sloppy, light blue crayon-writing. I stared down at it for a moment before I flipped open; glitter burst from the card, exploding in my face, and I swiped it away, reading the words inside. _Your the best. Love you, Cal._

"More glitter!" Fred exclaimed. "Seven-year-olds and glitter are not a good combination, I am telling you—"

"It's sweet." I told him firmly, looking up at him as I put the card down, smiling a little; I picked up the next letter, then blinked down at the writing. Finn Causer's shaky scrawl, less legible than even my little brother's, was across a perfectly square envelope. "Oh, bloody hell." I grumbled. Finn was living with Mr. Causer and Mum, and I'd told him to write me—the kid had been my best friends with my brother for years, we were practically siblings ourselves—but thus far I'd not gotten a letter, which I'd taken as a good sign. Finn would probably only write me with a problem. Or, in this case, a wedding invitation. Dammit.

"What?" Albus asked, looking over. "Is that from Nate?"

"I wish." I muttered, flipping it over and cracking open the envelope, taking out the contents. A large, thick invitation, a small envelope and response card, and then a folded paper fell out of the envelope. I swallowed, flipping the invitation over to look at it; _Eamon Causer and Niamh Breston are pleased to invite you to their wedding on October 1, 2022._ I inhaled, exhaled, and then reached up, tearing it in half.

"The hell…?" Fred muttered.

"Niamh Breston," I said lowly, "formerly Gale, is engaged to Eamon Causer." I turned the halves, and, after a moment of struggle, tore those in half too. The pieces dropped to the table as I reached for the note, flipping it open.

_Molly,  
Please come to the wedding. I'm pretty much as thrilled as you are about this.  
Finn_

"Finn?" Albus guessed; I glanced up at him, then nodded once, folding the paper in my hands and dropping it with the pieces of the invitation. "Going to go?"

"Nope." I popped the p flippantly, because I could and the boys would know better. They weren't stupid. This made me angry.

"Alright." Albus murmured. "Think Finn is okay?"

"I think he's a big boy and mum isn't—" I fell silent, looking back down at my plate with a glare. For the last few months, I'd stumbled along, fielding midnight mirror calls from the twins when they had nightmares and remembering, when I woke up from my own nightmares, that it was better now. Things weren't bad anymore. "Mum isn't abusive or hateful or wrong. Just weak. And married to a well-off soccer coach with one teenage step-son to keep an eye on is a good thing for her." I exhaled. "She'll be happy." The word was hard to say because I wasn't good enough to want that for her. I wanted her to be miserable. I wanted her to feel the same all-consuming anger I did when I thought of her and Dad and the years-long mess that we'd all had a hand in creating.

"She deserves to rot in Azkaban." Fred volunteered; I glanced up at him sharply. "What?" He demanded, glancing from my shocked face to Al's slightly scolding one. "You were _thinking_ it. I just…_said _it." He raised his eyebrows, reaching forward to grab a muffin from the basket and took a bite. "Mmmm." He said contentedly through a mouthful. "Muffin."

I stared at Fred, then snorted in laughter, and Albus slipped an arm around my waist, leaning over to kiss the top of my head. I didn't have to think about Mum anymore. She didn't matter.

I didn't go to the wedding.

Finn sent me a copy of the video anyway.

* * *

May 2022

Molly

"Molly, babe, you can't just…" Albus's voice drifted off as my head snapped up, my eyes narrowing at him. "Not sleep." He finished his sentence uncertainly, my glare silencing him.

"We have our potions OWL tomorrow." I said darkly.

"You literally have slept like eight hours in three days, Molls. Not healthy." Albus said certainly, sitting down across the library table with me.

"Go away." I said irritatedly, looking back down at my book.

"Molly." Albus's voice was obnoxiously calm.

"Leave."

"Molly." I dropped my pen, my head snapping up to stare at him.

"I made Liam promise to punch you if you tried to impede my studying." I said lowly. Albus pressed his lips together, a smile there, and I felt a surge of irritation. "Stop smiling." I hissed. "This isn't funny. I'm going to bomb this, and since I have no goddamned idea what I want to be, I have to ace everything to keep all my options open—"

"Molly." Albus repeated.

"_Stop saying my name_." I hissed.

"You need to sleep. And eat." Albus said.

"Al, you want to be a stupid seeker," I hissed at him. "You don't _need_ an O.W.L. in any subject to be a fucking _seeker_. You _need_ to be speedy." I stared at Albus. "You are speedy. You will be a seeker." Albus grinned, straightening up at this backwards praise. "I will be a waitress at the fucking three broomsticks unless I—"

"No." Albus shook his head. "My uncle failed—"

"Your family saved the damned world!" I cried, folding over the table and pressing my forehead onto the table. "My family is famous for being a walking disaster! No one will employ me! I'm going to fail out of school and—"

"You're having a meltdown." Albus stated; I lifted my head, my chin resting on the table, my eyes miserable on him. "And since I'm—a boy, I am unsure of what to do with this, but let me tell you this." He leaned down on the table, resting his chin on the table too. "You're pretty. So, if you need to, I think you could make it as a _super_ classy prostitute." I stared at Albus for a moment, then groaned, letting my forehead fall to the table again, trying not to smile.

Dopey Albus still made me smile.

* * *

June 2022

Albus

Everyone assumes that being a Potter means things are just peachy all the time. Because my dad saved the world and my mom coaches a quidditch team and has red hair and freckles and because I have a girlfriend that can outduel just about anyone in our school. Those things must mean things are just great for the Potter children.

No one remembers that having a parent who's an auror means spending nights thinking _oh, shit, Dad might not come home_. No one remembers that dating the girl with the abusive dad means that the idea of _early release for good behavior_ is a nightmare that might come true.

No one remembers that being the seeker for the Gryffindor team can be really fucking stressful when we lose the cup.

No, but actually.

"It doesn't matter." Molly murmured in my ear as she wrapped her arms around my neck in the locker room; no one gave a shit that we weren't supposed to have other people in here. Part of that lack of care was James was trying to drown himself in the showers, and Louis had reluctantly accepted the task of retrieving him while Sera laid on the ground, helpfully, and stared at the ceiling wordlessly, and Grace had locked herself in one of the stalls in the girls' room and Alec Thomas had been awkwardly standing in there pounding on her stall for the last ten minutes. Everyone else got their person. I got Molly.

I pressed my face into her hair, my eyes closed as I inhaled the way she smelled. I couldn't really describe it—it was like autumn, I guessed, but that wasn't really a description, and I would have laughed at Fred if he described a girl smelling that way (or described a girl smelling _any way_—smelling people is not normal behavior). Maybe leaves? I didn't think I'd ever _smelled _leaves before. I wasn't that kind of kid.

"Dammit, shit, fuck, _fuck_." I murmured into her hair; she pulled back, smiling sadly as she reached up to touch my face. "Molly—" The pain in my voice was audible.

"You're a fifth year, _it doesn't matter_—" she murmured to me. "We passed our O.W.L.s, you're low on sleep, that's why you—"

"Molly—" I breathed, shaking my head thickly; Molly gently pushed me backwards, forcing me back to the bench in the middle of the room, and I sank onto it, putting my head in my hands. Molly's hands covered mine on my face for a moment before they slid down to my knees, and she crouched down before me, cupping my calves for a moment; I looked up at her, and she reached a hand up to push my hair back from my face. "I didn't catch it." I said to her lowly, around the fist I'd pressed to my mouth, because I couldn't bring myself to say the words without distorting them, at least a little bit.

"Because you haven't slept in like four weeks, and you took a bludger to the chest eight minutes in." She reminded me, her voice gentle. "That, by the way, should be looked into." She glanced to my chest, and I didn't move. She sighed, reaching forward to unbutton my shirt, just the collar, first, and then down my chest. She pushed the flaps back but I didn't move to help her, so she just left it most of the way on, then reached to touch my undershirt, bring it up from under my belt. She lifted the shirt, and then exhaled slowly. "Albus." Her voice was soft, and I looked down at her; she was staring at my chest. I had a big black and red bruise on my ribs. Nothing was broken, I knew, but it still hurt like hell. "Can you even raise your arms above your head?" She asked finally.

I shrugged, then winced.

"Alright." Molly murmured, carefully lowering my shirt. She put her hands on her knees and pushed herself to her feet, looking around the room. "Oy, you lot." She said to the lagging Gryffindor Quidditch team; I felt people shift to look at her but no one said anything. "You lost the cup. I'm very, very sorry. You fought hard." She paused. "But there is a _shit_load of Butter Beer in our common room for drowning your sorrows." She looked down at me. "And Madame Pomfrey has to have bruise salve somewhere for that."

I stared up at her as my team and myself remained unmoving. Finally, I swallowed, then spoke, hoarsely. "But we lost the cup."

Molly groaned.

"Mother of—" She exhaled. "Do you know who else lost the cup, love? Your dad did. And so did your mom. And so did your uncle Bill. So. Guys." She looked up. "Pull it the hell together. Who do you think you are? The Gryffindor Quidditch team. Now. Since you can't win like Gryffindors—and yes, friends, that ship has sailed—go drink like sailors. Go! Go! Shoo!" Molly waved her hands, and a few kids shakily rose to their feet. Sera was among them, she exhaled, turning towards the boys' showers where the distant sound of Louis arguing could be heard. First one kid left, then another four together, then two. Another two, and then Sera and Louis and James emerged, wet, from the locker room and left. And then it was just me, and Fred, who was now lying down on a bench and had his eyes closed, his arm over his face.

"I can't even face my dad." Fred's voice shook.

"You lost the damned cup, not the damned _war_," Molly muttered. "If your dad has a problem with that, I'm going to yell at him, just you wait."

Fred snorted, but I didn't, just looking miserably to Molly, who looked down at me. "You're a good quidditch player, Albus." She murmured. "Really good. This doesn't mean anything. All this means is that next time you get your ribs pummeled, get out of the game. This doesn't matter. You're a fifth year, you're not captain, _this doesn't matter_. For Grace, yes it does. She's a seventh year, and captain. But you're just a fifth year. So calm the fuck down and pull it together." She held out her hand. "It's a big shiny gold goblet. If it's that important, I'll put it on next year's Christmas list."

I stared at Molly, then smiled a little, despite myself. She grinned, now, proud of herself. "Drink yourself into oblivion with me?" She asked softly.

"I'd be delighted, my lady—" Fred began weakly.

"I'm not losing my cup and my girl in the same night, Weasley, fuck off." I muttered. Fred exhaled, then chuckled for a half-second, tiredly. I grabbed Molly's hand and let her pull me to my feet. "Molly, love." I murmured as I slipped my arms around her waist tightly. "You have many lovely talents. As it turns out. Pep talks are not one of them."

Molly looked up at me heatedly, then seemed to let go of her anger as she pressed her lips to mine for a moment, before pulling away. "I'm letting that slide because you're sad." She murmured as we turned towards the door, and I pressed a kiss to the top of her head, my throat hoarse. Dammit.

"Thank you." I murmured. She nodded against me, and Fred sighed behind us.

"You losers are boring." He mumbled. I exhaled, glancing back at him lethally.

"I hate you." I breathed.

"Love you..."

* * *

Dearest Reviewers,

(especially (and I'm naming names to make special not to exclude people) Imnotcallingyoualiar, AllenPitt, hushpuppy22, Notadreamnotyetanightmare, Molivline, pottercullen4-ever, Skittles31),

you have made this story not only easier to write but actually enjoyable. I loved every minute of your reviews (also those reviews by reviewers unmentioned, the above were mentioned because they stuck it through from the beginning or something like it and were serious, hardcore reviewers who deserve cookies and hugs). They really do change everything and this story was just astronomically more frequently read then my other stories which made me feel all special and fun. So thank you, lovely reviewer people. You made my day. More than that, every time I received an email alert that I'd received a review, I was just pleased as punch and smiling at my email like a crazy person.

A million times thank you,

Carrie

PS. More to come, soon. Also, writing a blog, link's on my profile, it's called Perfectionist's Prose, I started it tonight (seriously) so it's a little lacking now but I will be posting a preview (!) of my next story on it so if go, click away in the next few days and then wander back to my blog.


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